Solid
by justonemore
Summary: They say that when you know, you know.
1. Chapter 1

The fact that it had come upon them slowly made it all the more valuable to Spock.

When he had first arrived at Starfleet Academy as a student, he had found the academic load to be easily within his capability, but it had become quickly apparent that he needed to learn something about human emotions, not just to handle day to day interactions, but to be able to succeed as an officer.

Spock preferred the sciences, and didn't really covet what the other cadets called "the big chair", but Starfleet was an organization that functioned on teamwork. Everything from his survival training to his mock research missions required the formation of a team and someone to lead or guide it. On Vulcan, most organizations were fairly hierarchical, in that one person led, parceled out assignments to the people best suited, and then expected things to be done. Other species, however, required something more. They needed their team leaders to acknowledge their contributions, to praise them, and to encourage them to take initiative. Sometimes, Spock had noted, these methods, if well executed, enabled the team to exceed its mission, something almost unheard of on Vulcan. So he studied human psychology, and he learned to practice good management by rote, creating rules for himself about how often to praise the people under his command, and how often to push them harder. He remembered the time when, as a fourth year student, he had convinced a terrified freshman to cross a deep river canyon using only a rope pulley system.

"Do not underestimate yourself, Cadet. You have the skills to execute this task," he had said. He remembered the look on the young man's face after his successful crossing. Spock had been…gratified to have enabled another person to have discovered something within himself.

After he graduated and begun teaching at the Academy, he had so impressed his superiors with his understanding of psychology that they had allowed him to program the Kobayashi Maru simulation. So even though Spock did his best to divorce himself from emotion, he knew, at least in an academic sense, that the kind that erupted quickly often ended quickly.

She had at first just been another student. Of course, Uhura was never just another student in anyone's class, and Spock's was no exception. He had taught a course on Protolinguistics, the structure of all languages. It was not enough for a Starfleet communications officer to speak many languages. One simply couldn't count on being able to become fluent in more than, say, twenty. More importantly, though, it was likely that a ship could come into contact with new civilizations, and new languages. It was necessary to have some kind of approach to those languages, and learning the innate structure of language was the starting point.

For his whole life, Spock had been fascinated by the unusual, the cases that didn't follow the rules, perhaps because he usually felt like something unusual that didn't follow the rules himself. In his Protolinguistics class for third years, he began with the two major types of Earth languages – those that used word order to establish their meanings, and those that declined. He moved on to some Denobulan languages, which altered their verb conjugations not just based on the subject of the sentence, but also on the physical location of the subject. Then, he began teaching them about the infinite variety of exceptions to all of these systems that they would encounter. He exposed them to African languages which incorporated clicks, taught them about sign and gestural languages, and brought in speakers of Irradian, who shot streams of water of varying lengths from their gills to indicate which tense they were using (He made a note to himself that the next time he taught that particular class, he should probably caution students against sitting in the first three rows.) Uhura had taken the most copious notes during the sessions.

Where she had really stood out though, was her ability to understand languages of beings whose brains were fundamentally wired differently than Terrans. She was unphased by the language of the El-Aurians, who didn't experience time in a linear fashion and whose language had many confusing tenses, like past-after-future and repeating-time-loop. He suspected her natural ear was better than his own. Every time Spock would give one of these examples, notes would be passed to Uhura, or little clusters would gather around her as she was leaving class, asking her to explain. Spock had considered encouraging group work in the class, as most teaching manuals suggested, but decided against it when it became clear to him who would end up doing the group's work.

Several times, she had come to his office hours with examples of languages that hadn't been included in his lectures.

"Professor Spock, I was wondering how we would classify the Prokofi of Denaris Five, who stack rocks of varying sizes on the table in front of them during speeches to indicate emphasis?"

"Indeed, I was unaware of this example. We might classify this language as partly gestural, as we might do with some Earth languages, like Italian," he said calmly, making a mental note to add the Prokofi of Denaris Five to next year's syllabus.

"It's made me wonder," she noted," As Communications Officers, our protocol is to establish audio, then visual contact, yet we lose a great deal with some cultures if we don't have visual."

"Very true, Cadet," he said, pleased that she had grasped one of the key lessons of the semester, "yet, sometimes, visual communication must be sacrificed to strategic objectives. If the bridge of a Starfleet vessel is damaged in some way, it might be unwise to give that information away to an unknown group. A strategic tradeoff that must always be weighed. Indeed," he continued, "perhaps you could try to use audio communication to better effect. In the case of the Prokofi, one might try to use the sounds of the rocks being stacked to gauge the size and depth of the stack." She had smiled broadly at that, and he had been a bit confused as to why.

After she outpaced the other students by what Captain Pike called "a country mile" on his final, he had written a recommendation letter for her file that was, for him, quite glowing. It was only natural that she was chosen as one of the fourth year students entrusted to monitor the Starfleet Communications Array. Spock saw her there once a week or so. As a junior faculty member, he was often stuck with an overnight shift as Senior Science Officer, reviewing the incoming communications on scientific matters ranging from new nebulae to plagues. It was up to him to recommend dispatching aid or scientific survey teams. It was always a relief when Uhura was on duty with him. Most cadets just sent him file after file that he had to sort through, and they ate something called pepperoni pizza that left a disagreeable odor in the close quarters of the communications array galley. Uhura coded each file either for him, the strategy officer, or the cultural officer, she ranked them in terms of importance, and she brewed fragrant teas. She also ate a lot of chocolate.

"I think you'll like it, Commander. Most people do."

"Where does it come from?"

"The cocoa bean, grown in the Southern Hemisphere of Earth."

Spock had decided to try some. From then on, there was a third reason to enjoy Cadet Uhura's presence.

There was a fourth, though, that he didn't really admit to himself, not then, anyway. He found her presence restful, with her quiet efficiency, the way she politely asked about his mother and, equally politely, never mentioned his father, and her annotations on communications that were interesting linguistically. These annotations were written, he knew, for his benefit.

Just before the beginning of Uhura's last semester, and his as well, as he was being rotated back to active duty, he had been summoned one evening to the office of the Academy Superintendent. There, he had found, along with the Superintendent, Admiral Waite, a man known for his appetite and his enthusiasm.

"Well, well, here we are, Spock. We have a new project that's right up your alley."

Spock was confused. While there was indeed an alley next to his building in faculty housing, it was mostly used for access by the sanitation services.

"We have a new, experimental communications array coming online. Very deep space stuff. It will be able to receive communications going from location to location in the Beta Quadrant. Naturally, it can't pick up everything, so it will just be snippets, my boy, mere snippets. That's where you come in. You've been very Johnny-on-the spot with your shifts at the Communications Array, eh?"

Spock didn't believe anyone named Johnny was currently among the Communications Array staff, but he was beginning to see where the Admiral was going with this. The Beta Quadrant was home to the Romulans. This was perhaps an intelligence gathering venture of some kind. The Superintendent quickly chimed in.

"It won't just be Romulan communication. You'll be hearing communications from new worlds that the Federation hasn't yet encountered. Of course, we might wish to know which are allied with the Romulans, but we'd also like to catalog as many of these new worlds as we can."

The Admiral jumped back in,

"You pick your team, of course. You'll monitor the new array, and report anything of strategic and scientific significance to those of us at the top, what, what?"

Spock was again confused. Was the Admiral asking him to repeat himself, despite the fact that he had said nothing? Spock decided to let that go.

"I will carry out this task. I see no reason that my present duties cannot accommodate this project, since I am teaching only two classes this semester." The Admiral and Superintendent said nothing about the fact that two classes was a full load. They were merely relieved that Spock hadn't asked to be let out of teaching.

Spock had selected Uhura for this new assignment as a matter of course. He had been unsure if he should monopolize her time like this, but she assured him that she had only her senior project left, and that all of her remaining credit hours would have come from her practical assignment at the Communications Array anyway. He told himself that it was logical to assign her to the 8 p.m. to 4 a.m. shift along with himself, so that they could together review the work of the other four cadets, Uhura for errors in translation, and he for strategic importance.

The new Deep Space Array was housed on the third floor of a building on campus that contained mostly long term research facilities. Many of the labs required security clearance for admission, but the Academy hadn't wanted to call too much attention to the building, so there was only one security desk. There was a small cafeteria, but it closed at 6 p.m. and there was just a small lounge with a rudimentary food sequencer. The room that housed the array was quite small, and while it had some small storage facilities, the equipment took up a lot of room, and they couldn't really store food there, which made their midnight meal breaks rather dismal.

"Spock, may I ask you something slightly personal?" He looked up, as if her question was quite unexpected. He found though, that he was willing to tell her anything she wished to know.

"Yes, you may."

"That's the eighth time in eight days you've had salad for dinner. I don't mean to pry, but that doesn't seem like much protein." Getting enough protein was the bane of Spock's existence as a vegetarian. It usually wasn't a problem in San Francisco, a culinarily diverse city, but the institutional food at the Academy, particularly here in the restricted lab, had few options for him other than salad that didn't contain meat, and when Spock ate on campus, as he usually did, he often found himself having to eat protein supplements back in his quarters. He even kept a large supply in his office.

"You are correct, Cadet. I usually try to make time to get protein supplements at other times of the day."

Uhura had looked dissatisfied at this response. The next night, she put a hand on his forearm as he was about to go downstairs to the lounge for his ninth salad and her fourth turkey sandwich.

"Tonight we take the full meal hour, and we get real food," she stated decisively. He nodded, looking at her hand on his arm.

She led him two blocks off campus to a small Greek restaurant. The attached bar meant that it was open late. She pointed out a number of entrees with white beans and chickpeas. She also ordered an appetizer called hummous, which Spock found to be delicious. The owner, a fatherly man in his sixties, came over and embraced Uhura, and they conversed for a moment in what Spock supposed was Greek. She introduced Spock. Mr. Katsidis slapped him on the back and said that any friend of Nyota's was always welcome here. Spock nodded uncertainly, but for a moment was reminded of a dinner he had had with Captain Pike's family, where everyone had seemed very comfortable and at home. Mrs. Katsidis had even come out at the end of the meal with a large bag of something called baklava and presented it to him with murmurings about Starfleet "not feeding these youngsters properly, they are skin and bones."

"Thank you for a very agreeable meal, Cadet," Spock had said on the way back.

"I'm glad you liked it, Commander," she said. For some reason, Spock noted, she did not look him directly in the eye when she spoke to him as she usually did. He continued,

"Mrs. Katsidis did not have a high opinion of the Starfleet Academy cuisine."

"Neither do I," she said, turning to look at him.

"Nor I," he said, returning her look

This created an unspoken pact between them, and every Friday from then on, they went out for a decent meal during the meal break. Spock was able to try curried chickpeas, tofu with vegetables, and bagels and cream cheese. He told himself he was celebrating infinite diversity in infinite combination. He was also finding himself growing accustomed to the idea that someone other than his mother cared about whether he was eating well, whether he was leading a satisfying life.

Just as satisfying, though, was the work they were doing. They had intercepted quite a few Romulan communiqués. They were, as the Admiral had promised, just snippets, but Spock had pieced together some of the random fragments, enough that he had been able to report a possible incursion against some of the outposts at the edge of the neutral zone. He could not know for sure whether he had been right, as any military action taken on the basis of this kind of intelligence would be on a need-to-know basis only, but the Superintendent had dropped various hints that their work "was appreciated at the highest levels."

Uhura had identified over 100 new languages in five weeks. More importantly, she had identified a number of them as members of the same proto-linguistic family, indicating that they were languages from the same planet. She and Spock had deduced that ten languages belonged to a planet allied with the Romulans militarily, and five to a planet that had some kind of trading arrangement with them. Their time had been very productive.

Later, Spock would see this as the point at which he had become too complacent.

Two months after they began operations, on a Thursday night, or, technically, Friday morning, just after 2:00 a.m., Spock heard faint shouting. It sounded as if it were coming from the first floor. Spock opened the door to put his head out in the hallway, and heard the security guard's voice saying angrily, "You can't go in there." Then he heard phaser fire. He closed the door.


	2. Chapter 2

"Cadet, someone is attempting to gain unauthorized access to the building. Have you passed your mandatory weapons training?" She nodded, and immediately turned to send as message to the Starfleet Campus Police. She then tried to send as much of their recent work as she could to the Superintendent's private datastream, just in case. Spock opened the combination lock on a storage compartment and pulled out two emergency phasers. He passed one to Uhura. "I believe we need more information about their ultimate goal." Ignoring Uhura's feeble protest about regulations when under fire, Spock stepped out in the hallway again, closing the door after him. He returned a minute later. "I believe they have reached the second floor. There are at least two intruders who seem to be speaking one of the Rigelian languages. They said something like "Wursh tchin uruk na"

"That means 'Where is the array?'" said Uhura quietly. They looked at each other for a moment. Uhura locked the door. Spock moved the only loose piece of furniture in the small lab, a three foot rolling credenza, in front of the door.

"We will need to take defensive positions using a ten and two strategy."

"Can we prop something against our chairs?" Spock nodded. Uhura wheeled their chairs into place on opposite sides of the door. Spock ripped the metal built-in bookshelves out of the wall and piled the metal planks onto the chairs. They each took a position and waited. They heard footsteps and voices outside the door. The door knob was tried. Someone slammed against it, the impact causing enough vibration in the room to rattle Spock's teeth. Then the low hum of phasers, as their unknown would-be assailants began cutting through the door. Spock and Uhura waited tensely, and the moment finally came when an arm pushed away the fragments of the door. Spock aimed his phaser at two o'clock and fired, Uhura aimed hers at ten and fired. The crossed streams kept the intruders at bay, preventing them from even approaching the door. They heard howls of frustration, then silence, perhaps too much silence.

Spock might have seen the grenade for a fraction of a second as it arced through the air and exploded on impact near their equipment. He managed to put an arm out to reduce the impact as the force of the explosion slammed him against the wall. Through the haze, two shadowy figures approached the doorway. Spock fired several warning shots. The figures fell back. He could hear more shouting, this time in Federation Standard, from the ground outside the building, but he didn't care. He couldn't see her. Just as he began to feel what he thought was probably panic, he saw her through the haze. She was sitting up, but not moving. As he drew closer, he saw that her head was bleeding.

"Nyota, are you alright?" He placed his hand on her arm. She looked at him, dazedly, and nodded. "You are bleeding," he said gently touching her head. As he did whenever he touched someone, he saw a flash of her emotions, in this case confusion and concern for him. He had to stay focused for a few minutes longer. He cautiously moved into the hallway and satisfied himself that the intruders were at least no longer on their floor. He moved back into the room more quickly than he knew he was capable of doing. He grabbed the first aid kit from the floor where it had fallen. He cleaned some of the excess blood from her head, trying to do it as gently as possible. Then he placed a pressure bandage on her wound.

"Thank you, Spock," she said quietly. Then she turned toward their equipment. "Spock, we have a fire!" Spock turned and grabbed the extinguisher and put out the flames that were licking up from the equipment that had been hit by the grenade. "I think it's just our connection to Starfleet Command that's been damaged." Spock nodded. Their link to the array itself was farther back in the room and seemed to have suffered little. He turned back to her,

"Nyota, you need medical assistance, but I need to make sure the area is secured." She nodded. He squeezed her arm in what he hoped was a reassuring way, and he left again, this time to scour the entire hallway. He heard the Campus Police shouting "All clear," on the floor below. Spock raced back to the lab. He helped Uhura to her feet, and took her hand to lead her out of the lab, around the debris, and into the elevator. As he held her hand, he felt what she felt, all of it: her pain, her confusion at the source of the attack, the depth of her feelings for him. Spock was glad that they had to stop to ride the elevator down. He felt overwhelmed, and he was not certain why his legs were still working. His studies on how to manage emotions in battle had helped him focus, but they hadn't prepared him for this.

"Commander, Cadet!," said the Head of the Campus Police. Spock knew that the man recognized him; he had ticketed Spock's bicycle enough times.

"Two Rigelians tried to break into our lab, and they set off a grenade. A security guard is injured somewhere. I will make a full report, but Cadet Uhura needs assistance immediately."

"We hadn't expected casualties…"

"Perhaps, " said Spock icily, " the next time a person sends you a communication asking for help, you might anticipate that that person could, in theory, become a casualty…" Uhura put a hand on his arm.

"Spock, it's only about a block to the infirmary. I can walk."

"Do you feel well enough?" She nodded. He turned away from the officer, and they walked toward the infirmary. They didn't touch, until Uhura began to sway. Spock put his arm around her.

"Thanks, I'm sorry to be so much trouble."

"Do not apologize, Nyota, I –"

"Spock, I'm not sure I can keep walking." He caught her before she collapsed, and picked her up easily. Her head rested on his shoulder, and she had fainted. Spock walked as quickly as he dared to the critical care facility and reluctantly placed her in the care of an impossibly young-looking intern. Only as he set her on the gurney did he remember that he had often wondered how it would feel to hold her, and now he missed the sensation. He seated himself in the waiting room, just outside the treatment area. He politely resisted entreaties from the medical personnel to be looked over himself. This sense of helplessness and fear, he supposed, must be misery.

The intern emerged, finally.

"Cadet Uhura has a concussion. In these cases, there is usually a full recovery, with some memory loss of the surrounding events, but since she lost consciousness, we will need to keep her overnight for observation and wake her periodically."

Spock followed the orderlies and a nurse as they moved Uhura to a room on the second floor. She was still asleep.

"We can call you if there's any change, Commander…"

"I will remain," he said quietly. The nurse looked at his face and didn't even attempt an argument.

Spock sat in the chair, and watched her. At 6:00 a.m., a nurse came in, woke Uhura, and asked her a couple of current events questions. Uhura answered the questions, locking eyes with Spock. Then they let her sleep again. They came in again at 9.

"I can perform this function at three hour intervals, as I am sure you have other duties" Spock told the nurse. She looked at him shrewdly.

"On one condition, Flyboy. You let the doctor on call look you over." Spock decided this was a reasonable bargain. His arm and one side of his face were covered in bruises, but otherwise he was fine. They gave him one of the newer vascular regeneration creams, and a prescription for a painkiller that everyone in the room knew he'd never fill. Spock returned to Uhura's room. At noon, he sat on the edge of her bed. He hesitantly put a hand on her back, the way his mother used to when he was ill.

"Nyota."

Her eyes fluttered open.

"Spock. It was all real, wasn't it?"

"The attack on our lab, yes."

"I remember we were firing at them, and then suddenly, I was on the floor, and there was smoke and flames."

"Do not speak further. You should rest."

"Are you alright? Your face is –"

"The doctor has given me some medication for that. It is a superficial injury."

She closed her eyes again. Spock gently brushed her hair out of her face and returned to his chair. At two, the police came by, with several other Starfleet officers. They wanted Spock to come with them for a debriefing. He refused, indicating that his first responsibility was to the people under his command. They agreed to interview him in the infirmary administrator's office. The intruders had escaped. Spock had given them as much information about the events as possible, but when they asked him why Admiral Waite's aide had secured their lab and refused to allow the campus police access, Spock noted that he could comment no further.

He had returned in time to wake Nyota again. This time, she was awake for an hour and begged him to go get some rest. He insisted he was fine. As he returned to his chair to watch her sleep again, he wondered who had taken his classes that afternoon. Then he remembered that it was a Saturday. Never before had he felt so little obligation to his students. Perhaps it was because his best one was here.

The nurses began coming in to wake Uhura again, as they needed to check her vital signs and do some more tests.

"Still here, Flyboy? You are certainly a persistent one."

At 11 p.m., the doctor on call announced that Uhura's scans looked good, and she no longer needed observation. Her recuperation could continue at home, where most patients were able to rest more comfortably than in a hospital. Spock walked her back to the dormitory, insisting on taking her arm. At her door, he said,

"I am reluctant, Nyota to leave –"

"Spock, the doctors said I'll be fine. You should go home and rest." She leaned up and kissed his cheek. As usual, he could not refuse her.

In his own quarters, he wearily changed clothes. He had had another debriefing, this time via secure teleconference with Admiral Waite and the Superintendent. Starfleet Intelligence was working on tracing the Rigelians, who had probably been hired to decommission the array.

"Your work's just a bit too good for their comfort, what, what, Spock, my boy? Still, your lab will need a few weeks of repair."

Spock could not even remember what his reply had been. He had, however, been adamant that they could not disturb Cadet Uhura for her statement. He had cited "medical reasons", which was vague enough not to be an actual lie.

As he looked at himself in the bathroom mirror, he had to acknowledge that he looked awful. He still had dust and ash in his hair, and one side of his face was heavily bruised.

As he dragged himself onto the bed and slid underneath the sheets, he thought of Nyota. She had acquitted herself so admirably, and he knew he was being objective about that. He had seen fourth years in less stressful simulations freeze in panic, but Nyota had been with him every step of the way, complementing him, as she had done in their work, as she had done when she took him to dinner. And he knew now, knew from his own panic and concern for her well-being that he felt for her more deeply than he had ever cared for another. And he knew too, although he shouldn't, that she cared for him. They were connected, and he wanted that connection forever. He didn't think he could have it, but he wanted it.


	3. Chapter 3

Uhura had entered Starfleet Academy with the idea that she would end up on one of the larger ships, the ones with a mission of exploration. At the Academy, she had hoped to qualify for such an appointment, and to learn enough to make herself useful on a mission like that. She knew that she would meet interesting people, that was one of her reasons for wanting to explore, but she hadn't envisioned herself attaching to anyone special for a while yet. Certainly, her parents had a good marriage, and they were loving and supportive. She had supposed that in due time, she would find herself a similar relationship, but she was in no hurry. Her friends at the Academy, she knew, found her to be kind, but there was a line you didn't cross with her, either in terms of closeness or outlandish behavior.

Her professors during her first two years had been a mixed bag. While Starfleet's goal was to have gifted professors in each subject, some subjects had very few Starfleet personnel that were truly well-versed in them, and in many others, the real experts were needed in the field. So some knew their subjects well, but were poor teachers, and in others, the teachers were gifted, but had real gaps in their knowledge.

In her third year, however, things had changed. Access to more specialized classes had meant access to the better professors. Commander Spock's class had been a revelation. Finally, she was being introduced to the most fundamental principles of language, and his syllabus was beyond interesting. She had approached the Irradians after class and tried communicate with them by holding up pencils of varying lengths to substitute for the water bursts. They had seemed amused. The whole experience had been worth going back to her dorm between classes to change uniforms.

Commander Spock himself had also been a revelation. His presentations were organized, and he could handle any question. It was though, his infectious interest in the material that had inspired Uhura to scour the Federation databases for obscure language examples, that had her reading theories of language acquisition and brain development. He had what would be a child's delight in the unusual, if he had been one for delight in general.

She also noticed that while his command of Federation Standard was excellent, he seemed to have trouble with a lot of Earth specific metaphors. She tried to make sure she explained them whenever she used them. He had particularly been interested in the sheer number that seemed to come from the sport of baseball, which he said was similar to something Vulcan children played, except that the baseball had a small computer inside that enabled it to dodge the children's bats.

"The equivalent of a 'grand slam' would be quite rare, Cadet. In fact, I think it would appear as an item on the evening news report." She looked at him. His dry sense of humor was another one of his excellent qualities. The semester passed too quickly.

She checked the syllabus to see if he was teaching anything that was remotely appropriate for her specialty, but he was mostly teaching introductory astrophysics courses next semester. Uhura was slightly disappointed, but was looking forward to the more hands on work that would be offered during her fourth year. She was at home in Nairobi for her brief summer vacation when she received the electronic memo notifying her that she had been selected to be one of the Cadet Monitors of the Starfleet's Main Communications Array.

At orientation, Captain Pike had stopped by to give the new cadets a pep talk. He had stopped her in the corridor on his way out.

"Cadet Uhura, you must really have impressed Professor Spock."

"Sir?"

"He described your work as 'excellent'," he laughed, "In Spock's letters about his A students, A usually stands for 'Adequate' or 'Acceptable'" He strode off, leaving Uhura surprised. She was further surprised to see Spock himself on the overnight shifts so often. She had mentioned it to the Array Chief. He laughed.

"Junior faculty, no wife or kids as an excuse. He's lucky they don't leave him here every night."

Uhura looked forward to the evenings when their shifts coincided. Spock did not chat so much that he drowned out the electronic communications altogether, unlike Lt Commander Peters. He appreciated the rare communications from planets whose languages required substantial decoding and interpretation. She was also impressed by his sense of adventure, as he tried every obscure tea her mother sent. Even the one that appeared to be an allergen for Vulcans and sent him into a coughing fit didn't seem to deter him. She was surprised that he had never tried chocolate before, but then felt she had created a monster when he proceeded to eat half her stash every time they shared a shift. She felt their relationship had moved to a new level. He was still her superior, but they were more colleagues than professor and student.

Before the Christmas break, he stopped by her quarters. She was surprised.

"Cadet, I had hoped to catch you before you left for home."

"My transport doesn't leave for another few hours. Come in, Commander." Spock had entered and remained standing. "Please, sit down," she gestured to her desk chair, and she herself sat on her bed

"I have a proposition for a somewhat more advanced internship for you." He had explained the new Deep Space Array, and the need for secrecy surrounding the project. "My concern, however, Cadet, is that this will represent a greater time commitment for you than your present internship."

Uhura was speechless at this opportunity he was offering her. Starfleet officers of ten years' standing never got to do something like this.

"I have completed all of my required courses, Commander, she said quickly. "I just have my senior project, and the rest of my credit hours were going to come from the practicum on the Main Array, anyway. I'd have to be crazy to turn this down." She paused. "That was an example of hyperbole, Commander."

"Ah. I'll look forward to our new project, Cadet. Have a pleasant break."

"Commander? Are you planning on going anywhere over the break?"

"There is a two day astrophysics conference in Monterey. Other than that, I hope to plan my lectures well in advance for the next semester." The unspoken truth, that he wasn't going to visit family or friends, broke Uhura's heart a little. She hoped that he really didn't mind. Maybe his logic was truly helpful to him in that way.

When they began work on the Deep Space Array, she realized that they would be spending most of their nights together. Uhura was tired enough, but Spock was teaching a full load. He looked tired, and their abysmal food situation hadn't helped. She knew Vulcans were stronger than humans, but she had never seen Spock eat much besides salad, okay, and chocolate. Didn't he need other nutrients? When she found out he did, she made up her mind to take matters into her own hands. She started with the Greek restaurant, and took him to everyplace that offered vegetarian dishes that she could find within a five block radius of campus. She stashed protein shakes in the office.

Once again, Uhura was entranced by Spock's adventurousness. He tried every vegetarian item on the menu at all of the restaurants they frequented. This must be how he had managed to come up with that fabulous syllabus, she thought. She thought he looked a little better, too. Less pale and tired. She had finally admitted to herself that she was falling for him in a way. She knew, though, that a conventional relationship was impossible professionally, and she doubted he would be interested in something like that. So, she was helping him the only way she could: by making him a project the way she had with all of her schoolwork.

There was no way to describe the joy she took in their work. She was the first Federation citizen to hear some of these languages. The cataloguing seemed too easy. The difficulty she had in stringing together the planetary language families made up for it, though. She wished this project weren't classified so that she should do her senior project on this. Spock's work, though, had been truly superlative. He had had to break two separate Romulan codes and then string message fragments together with a program of word frequencies that he had designed. Finally, he had had to overlay the messages on star charts to determine which outposts were threatened. Uhura's work had scientific and strategic importance, but she was sure that Spock had saved lives.

That Thursday evening had begun simply enough. It was 2 a.m. The array had been quiet, so Uhura was going over translations from the day shift. Spock had sat bolt upright, leapt up, and leaned out into the hallway. He had come back into the room and announced they were under attack.

Never before had Uhura been so grateful for all of those emergency drills. Call for help, arm, survey. They had done everything by the book, and Uhura was grateful that she had had rote habit and instinct to fall back on. She was also supremely grateful that she was there with Spock. He seemed to know exactly what to do, and when he ripped the metal shelves apart like wrapping paper, she remembered thinking that these intruders did not know with whom they were dealing. But it was more than that. They worked seamlessly as a team. When she had made a suggestion, he had implemented it immediately. She couldn't remember ever having worked like this alongside another person.

She had no memory of the explosion. One minute she was firing, the next she was on the ground, in pain and unable to see through the smoke. She looked for Spock and he was moving toward her. She sat up. She looked at him, and his usually impassive face looked both worried and relieved. She was surprised at the gentleness with which he bandaged her head wound, and continued to be amazed at his presence of mind. His hand in hers as he led her down the hallway was warmer than any that she had ever felt before. Vulcans have body temperatures that are 5.6 degrees Celsius higher than humans, she had mused in her daze. She remembered that he had stared at her in the elevator.

She remembered Spock almost shouting at the Head of Campus Police, and that she had tried to distract him. The next thing she remembered was being lifted into the arms of someone very warm.

The next 24 hours should have passed in a daze, but Uhura realized, when Spock began waking her himself, that she was receiving some very important information. Spock was the man she could count on. Whatever he had to give was hers, and, she now knew, it was entirely sufficient.


	4. Chapter 4

The next few weeks were spent in a holding pattern. Spock had initially called her every day. She knew that he had been dragged into yet more debriefings, and wondered why they hadn't called her in for a statement. On Friday, at 7:00, he showed up at her door, wondering where they were eating that night.

"Presuming, of course, that you are feeling well enough, Cadet."

She was a little surprised to see him, almost equally surprised that he had gone back to calling her "Cadet", and then dismissive of both of those notions when she realized that they reflected opposing concerns. They returned to the Katsidis' restaurant. Mrs. Katsidis made a fuss over Uhura's bandage, and told Spock he was supposed to "keep the young lady safe." Uhura told Mrs. Katsidis that Spock was the only reason she was standing there at all, at which point Mrs. Katsidis embraced Spock and kissed his cheek. When Spock dropped Uhura off, he did not attempt to make any physical contact with her., but Uhura didn't really mind. Clearly, the fact that he had plunked himself on her doorstep that evening indicated that their connection meant as much to him as it did to her. It would take them a while to find their footing.

They continued to have dinner every Friday. When the lab was finally repaired, they returned to work. Uhura had been nervous about going back. Starfleet constantly warned its officers about the dangers of Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. People laughed at Bones McCoy, but on some level, he was right that space exploration meant explosions, decompressions, planets with acid pools, and mutant viruses. It was not uncommon to experience trauma or see others die, and the debilitating effects of PTSD were a common reason for medical leave. Uhura was pleasantly surprised to find that the happy memories of working in the lab outweighed the bad ones of their last few hours there. Somehow, being there with Spock made it easier.

They only had six weeks though, before the end of the year. They tried to get as much done as they could. Spock found that the Romulans had changed all of their codes, perhaps because Starfleet's action to protect its outposts had signaled that the earlier codes had been broken. Uhura was receiving a lot of new traffic, including some from Klingon vessels, which had not previously been known to have been that far out.

She kissed him just once more before the week that marked the end of everything they had known. After final exams, most of the cadets in their final year took a few weeks of home leave, since they would ship out on their first assignments shortly after they received their commissions. Before Uhura went to the transport bay, she slung her bag over her shoulder and went to Spock's quarters. It was early, and clearly she had caught him in the middle of dressing, as his hair was still wet and he was just wearing a t-shirt with his uniform pants.

"Spock, I just wanted to say good-bye before I left."

"Have a pleasant and safe trip home, Cadet."

She reached up and put a hand on his shoulder to pull him down to her level. With that one kiss, she was trying to communicate all that she felt, and that she would be coming back, and in particular, coming back to him. She could tell by the tremor in his shoulder that she had surprised him, but when he began kissing her back, she knew that her feelings were reciprocated.

"I'll be back soon," she said softly.

"Good-bye, Nyota."

She wasn't sure exactly what the future held for them. She hoped they would both end up on the Enterprise, but they had both seen first-hand how unexpected events could upend best laid plans. She was sure, though, of him.

When she returned from her parents' house, she felt rested, and she was reasonably certain that their ordeal in the lab would probably be one of the more remarkable events of her Starfleet career.

Then everything changed.

Spock stared at the transporter pad where, a day or so before, his mother had failed to materialize. That was the wrong way to think of it. The pad where he had failed to enable her to materialize, failed to keep her from falling, failed to save her.

He was not the same man he had been a week ago.

Then, he had occupied himself with things that seemed now so trivial. Whether Kirk had reprogrammed his computer simulation. Whether he was being self-serving, or worse, exposing Nyota to scurrilous rumors, if he recommended her for the Enterprise. How could he have attached any importance to those events?

But now, who was this creature he had become? A man focused on important events to be sure, but a man ruled by emotions, drifting. First too unsure of doing anything but hiding behind the fleet, now a man hell-bent on revenge. Could any good come of his vacillation, his haste, his rage? A week ago, he would have said no. Now, though, now he knew. He had lost his mother, and that had reminded him more than anything that he was his mother's son. His father knew it too, had even given him permission to finally explore his human side. Was it the loss of his planet that had made Sarek bolder or more prone to re-examine his beliefs, or was it grief for his dead wife that spurred him to allow some of her to live on in Spock? No matter. Spock would live with both sides of himself from now on. There was no going back.

His observations of human teams and their ability to exceed their mission told him that these strong feelings could be harnessed to good end. He did not know exactly how.

Nyota knew how. She had somehow known how to give him something that he didn't know he needed, and she had done this by letting her feelings for him guide her, feelings that he too had been able to feel when she touched his neck or kissed him.

Kirk also knew how. He would need Spock, of course. Kirk came up with the big ideas. He knew what they should do. He couldn't, however, generally figure out how. For that, he needed experts. So, Spock decided, he would allow Kirk to draw the outline, and he, Spock, would fill it in. As a child, he thought ruefully, he had always been good at coloring inside the lines.

Spock turned and headed for the turbolift to the bridge.


	5. Chapter 5

Uhura felt more unsure of herself than she had since her first day of secondary school. After Spock and Kirk had come back safely, against all odds, she had been so relieved that, for once in her life, she hadn't really thought too far into the future.

After they ejected the warp coil, Uhura had contacted Starfleet. They were sending a repair team, so that the Enterprise wouldn't have to take a month to get back to Earth, but if would be a few days before things got underway. Kirk ordered the bridge crew to take some time off and get some sleep. Uhura had glanced at Spock. He was staring at his bridge station.

"Spock," she said quietly. He nodded, rose, and followed her to the turbolift. He stared at his shoes until they reached Deck 10, where their quarters were. He followed her to her quarters. Neither of them said anything. Uhura's quarters were small, with a desk, chair, and closet across from the bed. Spock sat heavily on the bed.

"A year, even a week ago, I would have abhorred the taking of a life. I was consumed by a desire for revenge against Nero. Now – now I have had it. Now it is – I feel so hollow. There is no satisfaction. So many are gone. The waste is too great to comprehend." He looked up at her. "I do not know, Nyota, how you carry the weight of such emotions. I don't know how I am to carry it." Uhura sat beside him on the bed, and put her arm around his waist.

"Human minds have a mechanism that enables us to protect ourselves. Over time, we forget the terrible and remember mostly the good. I think – I think maybe you use meditation in the same way, to keep the strong emotions at bay. Unfortunately, we humans have to feel the emotions first, before we can put them to rest." She put her other arm around him and hugged him tightly. He put his arms around her and buried his face in her shoulder. They sat like that for a long time. Uhura pulled away a bit. "The Captain ordered us to get some rest." Spock nodded.

Uhura got up and changed into her usual pajamas. She didn't want to embarrass him, nor did she wish to hide from him in any way. She glanced over at him. He was mechanically undressing, but, unable to break years of habit, was folding his clothing before setting it on a chair. She smiled slightly. At least, she was assured, the old Spock was under there somewhere. The black color of his Starfleet issue t-shirt and shorts matched his hair almost perfectly, and he looked very young, although he was almost 30. He hesitated. Uhura sat on the bed. She reached up and took his hand, pulling him down next to her. After they climbed under the covers, he surprised her by pulling her close to him.

"Spock, how do I help you?"

"I do not know," he said. "You always seem to choose the right path with respect to me."

They made love for the first time that night. Uhura almost felt as if she were taking advantage of him. He was grieving, and he was so new to these feelings. It was so odd for him even to acknowledge them. Yet, when it was over, he finally felt relaxed in her arms, and when he fell asleep, she knew she had made the right decision.

For a few days, they carried on that way. They did their shifts on the bridge. Spock was, as usual, a pillar of efficiency. Uhura's duties were very routine, with the exception of some repairs that had to be made on various comm. links throughout the ship. They spent their nights in Uhura's quarters. If anyone else noticed, they said nothing. They sometimes conversed at length, and sometimes said nothing. They had always worked well as a team, and now, their time together seemed very natural.

As they headed back to Earth, things began to change. Spock had begun spending more time with the Vulcan Elders, assisting them in their planning efforts. Spock began spending nights in his own quarters. Now, as she prepared to spend her third night alone, she felt very uneasy. The door chime rang. She went to open it and found Spock there. She stepped aside to let him enter. He didn't sit, so neither did she.

"Spock, is something wrong? Your behavior has been sort of distant this last couple of days."

"Nyota, I have had to make some decisions about…about my future. I must share them with you. I have found myself having to choose between duty to the Vulcan civilization, such as it is, and my own inclinations, as well as my duty to you."

Uhura felt her heart sink. Days later, she would ask herself why she hadn't seen this coming. Spock continued.

"With so few Vulcans left, I cannot ignore my obligation to help them rebuild. They have made it clear that they are desirous of my help. With so few members of the Science Academy left, the fact that I nearly entered seems to make them think I could be of much use." The last part, he said almost bitterly. Uhura was shocked by the irony of his statement, as she knew why he had turned the Science Academy down years before, but said nothing. He turned to her. "Nyota, I feel it best to terminate our relationship before I do further damage to you. Already, you would be justified in accusing me of ignoring your needs in favor of my own. I do not expect you to believe me, but I must tell you that if I were to follow my own inclinations, I would stay with you. I have not doubt that if my own well being were the only important goal, it would be logical for me to remain with you. I belong with you, in a way that I never have before. Perhaps I flatter myself, but I feel also that, because I have received from you, I must also give back to you, that I have a responsibility to you."

"Spock, you don't owe me," she said, almost angrily. He shook his head.

"It is not a transaction, or perhaps it is, but it is not a quid pro quo, as you say. It is more that if I were to do as I – as I wish, I would give you whatever I have to give." Uhura was in tears at this point.

"I could – "

"No, you could not. You could not find a home among Vulcans. You cannot give up the goal toward which you have worked, let all of your training go unused."

"So, that's it?" She remembered she had to be a bit more precise with him. "Our relationship is over?" Spock nodded.

"You are young. I am reliably informed that humans can form new attachments some period of time after an old one has ended."

"And you?" she said.

"Will always think of you as the part of me that is missing."

Uhura threw her arms around him, and began to sob on his shoulder.

"Can you do one thing for me?"

"What?"

"Can we remain together, until you need to leave for the Vulcan colony?"

"Will this not cause you greater pain?

"Perhaps, but I don't care." Spock hesitated, then nodded.

When they arrived on Earth, their lives were very busy. Uhura was amazed that the greatest tragedy to befall the Federation in its history was the occasion for more red tape. She had to appear at three debriefings and submit a written report. Spock had to testify for two days straight, and was grilled especially hard about the red matter and volunteering for a mission after he had resigned command. There were memorial services, commissioning ceremonies, and drives to aid the survivors of Vulcan. Absent were many of the traditional end of year festivities. It just hadn't seemed right. For the two weeks that the Enterprise was being retrofitted, Uhura volunteered to aid with the transfer of surplus Starfleet equipment to transports to the new Vulcan colony. It gave her an opportunity to work with Spock. They spent every might together in his quarters, and in their spare time, they packed his books, or went to her quarters to pack her things for either storage with her parents or for transfer to the Enterprise.

The morning he was to leave, they made love for the last time. They lay in bed for a while. She stroked his hair and his ears as if trying to memorize him. They dressed silently. She kissed him good-bye. He took her hand.

"I love you," she said. She had promised herself she wouldn't cry, but her resolve was crumbling, and tears were forming.

"I will always love you," he said.

Uhura turned, and unable to look back, walked to the transporter bay, to return to her quarters on the Enterprise. As she began putting away her things, she found one of Spock's t-shirts in one of her boxes. She burst into tears. After 45 minutes, she decided that shift or no shift, she had to be doing something and headed for the bridge.

She felt she had made a fortuitous decision, since the bridge was clearly in need of a calming influence.

The Enterprise was due to ship out in two days. They still didn't have their orders, and Kirk had not yet selected a first officer. He was driving Ensign Chekhov crazy by having him start one diagnostic test, and then switch to another before the first was finished. Chekhov was mumbling,

"You don't graduate the Academy at 17 unless you are methodical and thorough."

Kirk was juggling a group of four PADDS. Uhura glanced at them and noted that they were the service records of several Commanders.

"Where is my persuadable genius?" he muttered. Uhura showed Kirk how to look at anyone's service record at the extra terminal at the operations station. She took over the sensor diagnostic, leaving Chekhov free to do navigation. At least this occupied her time, until she noted the electronic signature of the last person to run the sensor diagnostic: Commander Spock.

After putting in four hours plus her shift, Uhura retired to the mess hall. An evening of Ping Pong with Dr McCoy made her feel a little better, and she retired to her quarters, feeling exhausted enough to actually be able to fall asleep. The next morning, she had an early shift, and last minute orders from Starfleet and equipment deliveries kept her hopping. Kirk took a private communication from Admiral Pike in his quarters, and arrived on the bridge even antsier than before. Chekhov quietly asked Sulu how many years one might receive for mutiny, after Kirk had asked him to plot four different routes to the Neutral Zone border.

Just before noon, the door opened, revealing Spock in uniform. Uhura watched, speechless, as he offered his services as First Officer.

"I can, if you wish, provide character references."

Kirk looked profoundly relieved. After a hasty conference between the two men in the corner of the bridge, Spock pointed out that Chekhov's first plotted course was the most efficient. Chekhov looked like he might cry from gratitude. As Spock passed Uhura's station on the way to his own, he looked at her and smiled. She had never seen him do that before.

That evening, in her quarters unpacking, Uhura heard the door chime. Spock handed her a white bag.

"Mrs. Katsidis sends baklava."

Uhura embraced him.

"Why did you come back?"

"I met a very…a very wise man who told me to trust my feelings."

The next morning, Uhura tripped over Spock's boots on the way to answer the intercom.

"Uhura? We've encountered a probe that's broadcasting something. The translator is useless. The language sounds like alternating clicking and screaming." Kirk's voice dropped. "I think it's going to make Ensign Raymond cry."

"On my way," she said.

"Oh and Uhura?" said Kirk's disembodied voice. "If you should happen to see my First Officer…"

"You're breaking up, Captain," said Uhura, shutting the intercom.


	6. Chapter 6

A/N Sorry for the delays in updating. Life intervenes, etc.

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Spock arrived on the bridge after Uhura. He had had to return to his quarters for a clean uniform, and it was hard to find one, since he had neglected to unpack the night before. This was unlike him. He wondered if it would be equally unlike him in the future. As he took his station, he noted the expression on her face, one of puzzlement. She looked up at him.

"Can you translate the broadcast, Lieutenant?" Kirk asked. Uhura turned to him.

"Captain, may I speak to you and Commander Spock privately." Kirk opened his mouth to make a smart remark. Uhura continued, "I'm not sure who is cleared to hear this transmission."

Spock was intrigued, and he could tell that Kirk was too. They retreated to the corridor. Uhura turned to him. "Sir, Commander Spock and I were involved in a project that required us to process input from a classified Deep Space Array, which received transmissions from the Beta Quadrant." Kirk looked pensive.

"I think I remember reading a memo about it when we were back on Earth a couple of days ago. There were…a lot of memos."

"We identified a number of languages that we'd never heard before, presumably from people inhabiting that region of space. This probe is broadcasting in one of them."

"Which language is it, Lieutenant?" asked Spock.

"The language of the group we labeled Uruk-na."

"What is a group from the Beta Quadrant doing sending a probe all the way here? We're less than a day from Earth at Warp 8, still in our own backyard."

"I do not know, Captain, but it does present some intriguing possibilities." Spock paused. "Were you able to determine the content of the message, Lieutenant?"

"It's just a set of coordinates, and a vague description – something about a bad event."

"Do we know anything about this civilization?" asked Kirk

"Not much," said Uhura, pensively. "It was hard to decipher their language since a lot of their transmissions were like this – coordinates or routes. Transmissions were detected far enough apart for us to infer that they probably have at least Warp 8 capability."

"I think we should head to these coordinates."

"Captain, we do have our mission in the Neutral Zone…" Spock said.

"Maybe it's just a little out of our way. Let's see." Kirk strode back onto the bridge, as Spock and Uhura followed.

"Mr. Chekhov, Lieutenant Uhura will transmit you a set of coordinates. Please let me know how far off our present course we will have to go." Chekhov frowned in concentration.

"This is almost along our present course, Captain. In two days, we can deviate from our present course for an hour and reach this location."

"All right, Mr. Chekhov. In two days, when we reach the deviation point, please yodel."

"Yodel, Captain?"

"A form of vocalization used by mountaineers in the Swiss region of the Eurasian continent, Mr. Chekhov. Captain, Mr. Chekhov's upbringing in a different region may not have permitted him to acquire the necessary skills to - "

"It's an expression, Mr. Spock. I really need new material for this crowd," Kirk sighed.

Spock noticed that Uhura smirked and then quickly caught herself. Perhaps there was something to be said for keeping one's personal and professional lives separate. Spock tried to remember what his parents had done. His father had had no involvement with his mother's classes for advanced students of Earth languages, but his mother had attended many official functions with his father. He recalled that his mother had been quite popular at those events, and he had somehow had the sense that his father had not necessarily been pleased with that. He was beginning to see the disadvantages of having a partner with a more profound understanding of social cues than his own, and felt sympathy for his father, perhaps for the first time.

At the end of Spock's shift, he returned to his quarters. He was feeling a sense of unease with their level of disorganization. His intercom buzzed. A private communication.

"I was wondering if I was going to see you tonight." Spock hesitated.

"I am feeling somewhat unsettled, as I have not properly unpacked or reviewed my department's crew and equipment manifests."

"It's okay. I could use a night to relax with a good book."

"Thank you, Nyota. I – I will miss you."

"I'll miss you too. Goodnight."

Spock was up most of the night, but he had a much greater command of the ship's complement of scientific officers and equipment when he stepped on the bridge the next morning. The laboratory situation he had already gone over with Captain Pike, but he was pleased to see that his suggested additions of a muon microscope and more force field restricted sampling containers had been added before they had left Earth. He felt that the ship was well-staffed in terms of botany, zoology, chemistry, physics and anthropology, but there seemed to be a glaring hole in entomology. Perhaps a transfer from a Starbase might be arranged later in the mission. Spock didn't really want to have to do any of the cataloging himself. He had never told anyone how much he disliked insects.

After his shift, Spock arranged meetings with several of the key personnel in each scientific discipline. He told himself that this was the recommended management technique: staring expectations clearly, and expressing confidence in his personnel. That it enabled him to kill time until Uhura's shift was over was just a pleasant coincidence.

She sighed as she changed into a more comfortable robe.

"It was really busy on the bridge after you left. Apparently, Jim left a lot of paperwork undone. I was fielding irate messages from HQ much of the day."

"Perhaps you should inform me of these occasions. I think I could probably reduce the Captain's administrative burden, both by instituting some procedures and by taking on some of the tasks myself." She turned to him and took his hand.

"Do you mean you need to cover Jim Kirk's ass?"

"I might not have selected such unfortunately vivid imagery, but that is part of my function as First Officer." He continued, "Good management of personnel requires the channeling of each crew member toward his or her strengths. Perhaps one of my most important tasks is to…let Jim Kirk do what he does best." Uhura smiled.

"I'm not sure you'll be so charitable when you learn that he forgot to process both your orders and your transfer. You were technically AWOL for a day." Spock raised an eyebrow. She laughed. "Don't worry. I think we worked things out so that you'll get paid this month and the MP's will walk right by you at the next Starbase."

Spock could tell that she was tired, so neither of them pressed for intimacy that night. He was no longer surprised to discover how restful it was for him to simply be in her presence. As he closed his eyes, the sound of her breathing as she lay next to him was enough to encourage him to sleep without his usual meditation.

The next day, Chekhov turned to the Captain at 1300 hours.

"Captain, you wished me to yodel."

"Very good, Mr. Chekhov. Head for the designated coordinates."

An hour later, the familiar clicking and screaming came over the audio channel.

"The Uruk-Na must be a real hit at parties. What do we have Lieutenant?"

"It's almost the same message as before, Sir."

"Sensors indicate that it is another probe, Captain, identical to the first." reported Spock.

"The transmission is a new set of coordinates, and a slightly modified message. Again 'The bad event, the tragedy,' and something else 'Save the innocents'"

"Well," said Kirk, obviously intrigued. This may turn out to be some kind of rescue mission. Lieutenant, if you would…"

"Transmitting new coordinates, Mr. Chekhov." Chekhov again bit his lip in concentration.

"Again, wery close to our original course, Captain. In the direction of the Neutral Zone."

"Set course, Mr. Chekhov."


	7. Chapter 7

As they arrived at the set of coordinates mentioned by the second probe, Uhura made sure that she was on the bridge, even though she was technically off duty.

"Sensors indicate a third probe, Captain," said Spock

"I like a treasure hunt as much as the next guy, but this is starting to get a little old."

"Captain, the message is slightly more complex this time. It's repeating the words 'Save the innocents, while there is time' and it's repeating two sets of coordinates, and some kind of mathematical equation," said Uhura

"Math? That sounds like a job for everyone's favorite science officer." Uhura rerouted the translated equation to Spock. "Well, Mr. Spock?"

"I cannot be completely certain, but it looks like the formula for the rate of decay of the hydrogen core of a large star. "

"And that's used in order to -?"

"To predict when the star might go supernova, Sir."

"Do either of the sets of coordinates we received correspond to a star that might fit the equation?"

"The coordinates are close to the Neutral Zone, Captain, and to each other. The Federation has not completely mapped that area of space. Indeed, I had hoped that we would be able to add to that effort on this mission."

"Set course, Mister Chekhov. I suppose we'll figure out which set of coordinates to make a bee line for, once we get there and see the lay of the land."

Uhura looked over at Spock. She could tell he had barely understood a word of that last sentence.

"This mystery is really intriguing. At least I don't have to explain to Starfleet why we aren't heading in the right direction, since these mysterious Uruk-na have graciously provided us with a problem near our assigned area. If only all unknown species were so obliging. I think maybe, though, we'll keep this possible errand of mercy amongst ourselves. What Starfleet Command doesn't know, won't hurt them. How long until we arrive, Mr. Chekhov?"

"One week, two days, Captain."

"We'll just have to amuse ourselves in the meantime."

Kirk left the bridge with Chekhov, since they had the first lunch rotation that shift. Spock stepped over to Uhura.

"Lieutenant," he said quietly, "Please arrange a secure channel to Starfleet, using my authorization code." Uhura nodded, and complied with his request. Ten minutes later, she smiled as she looked over him. She didn't even need to ask. He was accessing her original report on the Uruk-na, taken from the Deep Space Array files, which were probably still classified. He and Kirk were so different, yet so similar. Neither could resist a treasure hunt.

Two days later, they were in her quarters, finally in for the evening. Starfleet Command had been asking for updates. Spock had spent the day composing some deliberately vague reports. Uhura looked over at him. He was seated at her desk, holding a PADD that he hadn't put down all day. When she looked at the screen, she saw that he had been running algorithms, mostly on the original transmissions they had received over the Deep Space Array. She put a hand on his shoulder. He nodded, and with a little reluctance, he put down the PADD. He changed into his pajamas. The last few times he had stayed over, Spock had brought what appeared to be traditional Vulcan night attire: a set of loose flowing pajamas that reminded Uhura of traditional men's wear in South Asia on Earth, except that Spock's outfit was entirely black. They weren't exactly regulation, and Uhura wondered whether they were a small gesture of mourning on his part. Perhaps she would ask, later, when his grief was less new.

As he waited for her to finish changing, he lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, apparently lost in thought. She climbed into bed, and touched his arm.

"Your analysis of the Uruk-na was parsimonious, Nyota, almost admirably so."

"Is that a back-handed compliment, Spock?" Spock paused.

"Is that a metaphor from the sport of tennis?" he asked. She laughed.

"I'm not sure. I've never heard you praise a thin report before. That certainly wouldn't have been the case for any of the assignments you handed out when I was one of your students."

"My students at Starfleet Academy were usually asked to report on known phenomena. A thin report usually reflected a lack of attention to detail that was easily obtained through secondary sources. Your report, on the other hand, avoided the mistake common to many researchers of overinterpreting the data. You had very little data, and you resisted the temptation to conclude too much."

"Those algorithms you are running…"

'I am trying to triangulate the coordinates you received over the Deep Space Array with the locations of the probes. Perhaps we can determine a probable location for the Uruk-na's system of origin."

"Anything, so far?"

"One can narrow down several possibilities. There are still too many unknowns. Every algorithm yields two or three completely discrete locations. In addition, there is also the possibility that some of the coordinates in the original transmissions from the Deep Space Array were objects of interest, rather than locations that were necessarily close to their homeworld."

"You are trying to avoid overinterpreting your data?" she smiled.

"I am merely attempting to emulate your admirable example."

The second time she kissed him, her attempt to distract him from his work for was successful for the rest of the evening.

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The next few days were somewhat uneventful. Spock was running out of things to say in their updates to Starfleet. In a few days, they would be close enough to uncharted space that he could claim that they were engaged in mapping. He didn't tell the Captain, but he began drawing up suitable away teams, depending on what they found when they got to the coordinates. Would they end up making first contact with the Uruk-na? Would they have to initiate some kind of rescue of the "the innocents"? Either way, Spock felt that he was going to need an anthropologist, and a primary survey team. They would probably need Uhura, especially if they were making contact with the Uruk-na. His Vulcan hearing made their communications even more unpleasant for him than for the Captain and young Ensign Raymond.

When he needed to choose disaster specialists, he felt that it was time to get input from the Captain.

"Always thinking ahead, Spock."

"It is necessary for at least one bridge level officer to do so, Captain."

"Did you just insult me, Mr. Spock?"

"Captain, have you ever known me to engage in that kind of verbal horseplay?"

"No, I guess not. Alright, well, I think Lt. Pappandreou might be your man. When Nero attacked the fleet, he organized the evacuation of the Intrepid, then had his pod picked up by the Darwin, only to have to coordinate the evacuation of that ship. 50 percent of the crew complement saved in each case."

"Impressive, Captain."

"I think you'll also want someone who's good on the ground. Now, Ensign O'Malley is very good at search and rescue. She can set up a pulley system using only twigs and rocks like nobody's business. Such fast hands…" Kirk suddenly had a dreamy look on his face. Spock coughed.

"Would that be O'Malley with two l's, Captain?

"What? Yeah, I guess."

Three days remained until their arrival at the designated coordinates, and Spock didn't mind the downtime. As he sat at his post at the science station, he reflected on the fact that he was a profoundly changed man. Kirk had revealed to him their mission, to patrol the Federation edge of the Neutral Zone. Trouble was not expected per se, but Starfleet wanted to be cautious. It was feared that the Romulans might worry that the Federation would blame them for Nero's attack. If the Romulans feared some kind of retaliation by the Federation, they might launch a pre-emptive strike. Spock and Kirk had both had to admit the logic. The Enterprise was sent alone both to avoid alarming the Romulans, and because the Fleet was a little short on ships.

Yet, here they were, ignoring their mission, and Spock, who could quote regulations in his sleep, was not that concerned. Uhura had set up a daily contact protocol with the Federation outposts at the border. The coordinates to which they were headed were close enough to the Neutral Zone that if something immediate happened, they could arrive reasonably quickly. Spock had begun to accept that to serve with James Kirk meant to leave some of the rules behind. He was, truth to be told, intrigued by these probes, these "innocents".

What had been most gratifying had been his relationship with Nyota. He had been unsure how their working relationship would be affected by the closeness of their personal relationship, but he had found that they complemented each other very well. Nyota frequently anticipated his communications needs, opening channels and providing translations even before he had had a chance to ask. They also each had to spend some time off of the bridge, so they still had things to discuss in the evening. He realized that he should not have been surprised, since their excellent working relationship had originally given rise to their personal one.

He hadn't yet had the courage to move into her quarters permanently, or to invite her to move into his, but he found that other than his usual meditation periods, he did not wish to be without her. When he embraced her, felt her skin against his, he tried not to intrude on her thoughts too much, but he could feel her regard for him as if it surrounded him.

He spent the next few days trying to return some of the support that Uhura had given him. He brought her dinner after a late shift, repaired her door chime, learned the exact spots on her shoulders that would fade the tension that came from sitting in a chair all day.

Later, he would look back on that period and think of those days as idyllic.

"Commander Spock to the bridge. We've arrived at the coordinates."


	8. Chapter 8

Spock entered the bridge and moved to his station. Most of the senior staff was already there. Chekhov reported.

"The planet ahead of us corresponds to one of the sets of coordinates indicated by the last probe, Captain. Its sun is the other."

"Captain, the sun's hydrogen core is quite depleted compared to a usual star of this size. It would be reasonable to predict that a supernova is in its near future."

"Does the rate of decay correspond to the equation from the probe?"

"Unclear, Captain. I will need several hours to gather sufficient data."

"Proceed, Mr. Spock. Lieutenant, let's can contact the planet and see if these people know what a ticking time bomb they've got here. Those probes might have been an elaborate call for help with an evacuation."

"Hailig frequencies open, Captain." Spock looked over at Uhura, as she transmitted message after message, on different sets of frequencies. "Captain, I'm not receiving even an automated response, and there is no planetary communications traffic."

Spock, startled back into action, did a preliminary sensor sweep.

"Captain, I am not detecting any warp activity, or even any industrial activity on this section of the planet."

"Life signs?"

"Yes, in clusters of hundreds."

"A complete sensor sweep, Mr. Spock."

"Yes, Captain." Spock realized he would need some help. He called Ensign Kovac from the Astrophysics lab to gather data on the star, while he scanned every square kilometer of the planet. In three hours, they had their answer.

"Captain, the star, at its present rate of decay, which matches the equation given to us by the Uruk-na probes, will go supernova in approximately 18 months, three weeks, and four days. The planet below has life forms which appear to be a humanoid species. They have no industrial activity, and only some primitive forges, rather like those used for making tools corresponding to the Bronze Age on Earth."

"How many?"

"Ten thousand, four hundred ninety-one, Captain. All concentrated on one continent, midway between the planet's poles and its equator."

Kirk, for once, was silent. Spock understood why. This whole situation was puzzling and alarming. If these people had no warp technology, who had sent those probes? In addition, and perhaps more alarming, here was a species threatened with extinction, with no means of helping themselves. The Federation often engaged in humanitarian missions, but any kind of contact with a pre-warp species had implications for the Prime Directive. Spock should have known that Kirk could not remain still for long.

"Mr. Spock, we've got to know what we're dealing with down there. I want you to assemble a party. I know you have some lists…"

"Affirmative, Captain, but I think I will need to proceed more cautiously than I had originally anticipated. We cannot take the risk of allowing the inhabitants to see us until we have accumulated information on their modes of dress and their language."

"So who do you need?"

"Lt. Hernandez, Lt Uhura, and two security officers."

"In case of bears. Proceed, Mr. Spock."

As the landing party materialized on the surface, they found a landscape that reminded Spock of the Mediterranean part of Earth. The air was warm and dry, and there was a great deal of dry grass. The huge variety of native plants would require a substantial cataloging effort, Spock noted. He turned to the rest of the landing party.

"The settlement is 1000 meters north." Uhura handed some of her voluminous recording equipment to one of the security officers. Spock carried his tricorder and a portable holographic shield. They proceeded to a hill above what looked like a small agricultural village. Huts with thatched roofs clustered together, with what looked like a set of stables and a blacksmith at the edge of town. Spock kept the landing party above the hill, and set up his shield. Uhura set up her directional microphone and recording equipment. Hernandez, the head of the small anthropology division, set up his video camera. Thanks to the sensitivity of their equipment, they were able to observe a number of social encounters and business transactions.

"May I have a word with you Mr. Spock?"

"Lieutenant?" Hernandez looked troubled. "Are you unable to get the detail you need?"

"No, Sir. I think I can prepare a report for the Captain on costumes, customs, and level of technological advancement. It's just…"

"Yes, Lieutenant?"

"Doesn't this all seem a bit implausible, Sir? On Earth, countless other planets, we haven't seen this level of technological development with such a low population density. They have forged agricultural implements, alloys, fiber crops, weaving, and even writing. Usually, this happens as technologies spread from place to place, each group adding to the knowledge of the first. Almost no civilization has developed writing without developing cities. They need to have an agricultural surplus that frees up some of the labor force to develop writing. These people have settlements of 200-300, and a planetary population of 10,000. It hardly seems enough to have come up with all of these innovations."

Spock had reached the same conclusion, but he hadn't wanted to color the Lieutenant's report in any way.

"Your point is well-taken, Lieutenant. Interestingly, this mystery is one of many this planet has brought us." Spock returned to their observation site. He put his hand on Uhura's shoulder.

"Do you have enough recording, Lieutenant?"

"I think so. I don't think it will be difficult to program the translators. Their language reminds me of German."

Spock ordered everyone back to the beam down point, and followed with the portable shield.

The next 24 hours involved a flurry of activity. Uhura had to program the translators and translate all of the transactions so that Hernandez could complete his report. Hernandez in turn had no sooner completed his report, than he was called upon to supervise the manufacture of enough native dress for any further landing parties. Spock and Kirk devised a preliminary strategy. They would make contact, and evaluate the true nature of this civilization. Spock had also been eager to get started on a planetary survey, so Lieutenant Garelick, the head of the botany department, would lead a team to begin surveying in an uninhabited part of the same region.

"These pants are a bit baggier than I'd have chosen for myself."

"Comfort over fashion is the choice of many very logical civilizations, Captain," noted Spock as he tied the front of his tunic shut."

"I always suspected that you'd walk around in your bathrobe if given the chance, Mr. Spock." Spock decided that the Captain was looking to needle him. He placed a floppy hat over his ears.

"I would of course also wear slippers, Captain." Uhura appeared from the room next door. Kirk burst out laughing.

"Just in time, Lieutenant. And may I say your outfit looks most fetching." Uhura made a face,

"It's hardly what I'd have worn to the Academy formal, but I suppose it's great for milking goats in." Spock noted that Uhura's dress was indeed, quite formless and unflattering, and frankly, he was fine with that.

"Well, I suppose from Spock's perspective, it's just as well that you won't be ogled by all of these simple, yet virile, agriculturalists." Spock was almost annoyed. Wasn't he supposed to be the telepath?

"I think I know how to handle unruly farmboys," said Uhura pointedly. Kirk laughed, and ordered everyone to the transporter.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

They beamed down at the same point and then walked to the settlement. Their cover story of being traders had been improvised, but Hernandez had thought it would do. Uhura noted that it seemed much hotter with these clothes on, even though senor reading had indicated that this was planetary autumn.

As they approached a village, they saw a young brown-haired man leading a large four legged creature that was hitched to a small wagon loaded with some kind of grain. Uhura began, in case the translator ran into some glitches and improvisation became necessary.

"Good day"

"Good day. I do not know you. Are you travelers?"

"Yes, we have come to trade."

The young farmer looked at them intently.

"You do not seem to have much to trade." Uhura looked at Spock and Kirk. Spock opened the satchel he had been carrying to reveal several iron tools.

"We have tools of metal," she said. The young man looked puzzled.

"You have tools of what?" Damn, Uhura thought, the translator was skipping words.

"Bin nackt ollen mackn" said Uhura in his own language.

"Oh, then you must see Pertz. He usually has something to trade, especially for valuable items."

"And where is he?" The translator seemed to be having fewer problems.

"He is the smith, at the end of the village." The young farmer did not continue into town with them, but headed toward some kind of storage facility. As they walked to the end of town, they passed a couple of gaunt looking children, playing with what looked like a furry mammal about the size of a beagle. They arrived at the blacksmith's workspace, where the forge made Uhura even hotter. She nodded at Kirk to signal that he could probably rely on the translator. Kirk smiled his best used car salesman smile.

"Good day. My friends and I are passing through from further west. We were wondering if you'd care to trade? We have a lovely variety of iron tools." Spock opened his satchel.

The blacksmith, a tall thin man of about 55, regarded them silently. At first, Uhura was afraid that the translator wasn't working.

"From further west, you say? From Dubeck? I have kinsmen there."

"Even further west than Dubeck, I'm afraid." Clearly Kirk didn't want to get trapped by a game of "Do you know…?"

"Who are your gods? The Uruk or the Napanek?" Kirk looked at Uhura, who looked at Hernandez, who mouthed "Uruk"

"Why the Uruk, of course," said Kirk, smoothly. Pertz smiled.

"It's not that I have anything against those who follow the Napanek, but they are…old-fashioned."

"You have a point there."

"As for trading, I can give you some raw metal or a tapestry. Food we cannot spare, I am afraid, but I'm sure it's the same where you come from."

"Yes, crops in our settlement have done poorly as well," interjected Spock

"I cannot remember the last time our crops were plentiful, " said Kirk.

"Yes, things have gotten steadily worse since I was a boy, that is certain. The heat and drought mean the harvest is smaller each year. We have prayed to the Uruk, and sacrificed many spring lambs, but still our fields are barren. But there is hope. They have renewed the world once before. They may do so again."

Kirk and Pertz made their exchange. Hernandez jumped in

"We will camp outside of your town, and we will return soon. Perhaps for the festival…"

"Ah yes, the Festival of the Trees is in but three days," said Pertz.

The landing party walked back out of town and returned to the beamdown point.

"This is definitely an agricultural, pre-industrial civilization, Captain," said Hernandez.

"Whose world is dying, and will be completely dead in 18 months," said Kirk, ruefully.

"And who worship the Uruk-Na as gods," said Spock.


	9. Chapter 9

The senior officers held a hurried conference. The urgency they felt was indicated by the fact that the landing party didn't even bother changing clothes before proceeding to the conference room.

Kirk was agitated in a way that Uhura had never seen. He began pacing.

"We have a civilization that is about to be destroyed. They can't help themselves. I want options. An evacuation…"

"An evacuation, sir, would contaminate the civilization. They are pre-industrial, Sir, the Prime Directive is clear. How could we evacuate them without exposing them to things they can't possibly understand?" Hernandez was quite worked up.

"Are you suggesting, Mister, that we let them die?"

"Sir, I'm suggesting that we consider other alternatives…"

Kirk and Hernandez went back and forth. McCoy jumped in on Kirk's side. Scotty had no dog in this fight.

"We will need to decide what to report to Starfleet Command. They'll be expecting the weekly report at 1800," said Uhura gently.

Spock cleared his throat. Thus far, he had been silent. Uhura could tell he had made a decision of some kind. She knew everyone had been waiting for his opinion. Vulcans had introduced the Prime Directive to the Federation, but…

"We have to develop a plan that deals with several complications. First, we must determine how to evacuate an entire planet of 10,000 people with a starship that holds 400. Secondly, we must find a suitable place to relocate them. Third, we must accomplish all of this while patrolling the Neutral Zone, since Starfleet will not be able to spare another ship to take our place. Finally, we must try to execute this with minimal contamination of the planet's civilization. However, that may have to be a lesser consideration. Not evacuating them is not an option." Spock spoke firmly, and Uhura knew that he was thinking of another civilization that he hadn't been able to save.

Kirk looked a bit relieved. He grinned wryly.

"A tall order, Mr. Spock. Do you have any suggestions?"

"Affirmative, Captain. I suggest that we search for M-Class planets near the Neutral Zone, so that we can continue our patrols simultaneously. I believe we can take several hundred people at a time if we place them in one of the shuttle bays."

"So far so good, Mr. Spock."

"In order to limit the contamination of the planet's inhabitants, perhaps we could place them in some kind of stasis for transport. Would this be possible Doctor?"

McCoy considered.

"It depends on a lot of things. If the new planet were only a few days journey from the old one, a stasis would be possible. We could set up about two hundred cots. The problem is we'd need constant monitoring of people's vital signs. I don't really have enough beds with scanners. We'd need to assign one person with a tricorder to every ten or so people to take readings at regular intervals. I don't have a staff of twenty."

"We could train people. Most of the crew can use medical tricorders. They learn in survival training," chimed in Kirk. "Alright, gentlemen. Mr. Spock, I'll need an evacuation plan and a plan to search for a suitable planet. Bones, preparations for the emergency medical bay in the shuttle hangar, and you'll have your pick of crewmen to train on tricorders. Dismissed."

"Captain, Lieutenant Uhura, if I may."

The three of them stood near the door as the other officers filed past them.

"Lieutenant, I believe your report to Starfleet Command needs to be complete, yet - "

"What they don't know, won't hurt them," said Kirk

"I prefer the term parsimonious, Captain. Lieutenant, I believe you should state that we are performing a humanitarian mission of relocation, and it will be of indeterminate length. Stress that we will remain near the Neutral Zone. There is no need to mention the numbers of people. etc."

"Aye, Commander," Uhura returned to the bridge, relieved. She knew that Kirk decided the "what", but relied on Spock for the "how". The "how" here had seemed especially intractable. At least, this all sounded reasonable.

Uhura barely saw Spock for the next few days. He had assigned Pappandreou, O'Malley and Hernandez to outline an evacuation plan. He then pored over the local star charts, which were frustratingly incomplete, to plot a course to search for an M-class planet. Finally, he had to beam down to the planet to hurry the survey team along. They couldn't linger here, because they would be needed to survey any potential planets on which the people could be relocated.

Uhura spent a couple of shifts on the planet with Hernandez, collecting as much data on the planet's culture as possible, but eventually returned to her station on the bridge. She was returning to her quarters when she received a communication from the Captain.

"Lieutenant, it has come to my attention that my first officer has been on duty for 72 hours straight."

"That sounds right."

"I have ordered him to report to his quarters, or…to any quarters he thinks suitable."

"I have no comment on this matter, Sir."

"Two peas in a pod. Kirk out."

Uhura had been in her quarters for 15 minutes when the door chimed.

"Enter."

Spock actually looked slightly grimy, which was unusual for him. She could tell that he was tired. He sat wearily at her desk chair. She ran a hand over his hair.

"Have you really been on for 72 hours, no breaks?"

"The list of tasks necessary to ensure the success of the mission is quite long." He surreptitiously scratched his arm. "In particular the planetary survey needed to be completed. The lynchpin for this operation will be finding a planet suitable for relocation, and the team was needed to begin preparation for that task."

"And it's done now?" He nodded. "Well, you should get some rest now. Have you eaten? I mean recently?" He shook his head. "Get changed, and I'll get you something from the mess hall."

Spock began removing his shirt. Uhura looked at his back and arms. They were covered with raised green bumps of different sizes.

"Spock, are you coming down with some kind of rash?" He sighed

"I do not know if you are aware, but the ship currently lacks an entomologist."

"So you had to catalog the bugs," she said, laughing.

"I have no idea how the inhabitants of this planet manage to stay in such good spirits while surrounded by such an astounding variety of biting insects."

"I have something for that." Uhura went to the tiny bathroom and came back with a tube of ointment. "Maybe we'd better put it on just one to start with, just to make sure this doesn't cause Vulcans to break out in a worse rash. Uhura dabbed one of the bites. While Spock waited to see if an adverse reaction developed, Uhura ducked out to the mess hall to get him some soup and potatoes. After he had eaten, she spread ointment on the rest of the bites. He sighed in relief

"Thank you, Nyota. That is a significant improvement."

When they lay down, she didn't want to irritate the bug bites, so she settled for stroking his hair.

"You know, Hernandez learned some pretty fascinating things about their religion. It seems there are two groups of gods: the older gods, the Napanek, and the newer ones, the Uruk. Some of the planet's inhabitants follow one set of gods, and some follow the other."

"Such a patching together of deities is common, especially when cultural groups combine."

"True. The Uruk are rumored to have remade the world twenty generations ago."

"Remade the world?"

"Yes. They are thought to have changed the plants, the animals, even the number of moons. Stories about the Napanek refer to one moon, while those about the Uruk refer to both the planet's moons."

"Curious…" said Spock, as he drifted off.


	10. Chapter 10

Once the planetary survey team had completed its work, the Enterprise left orbit. Spock had decided that their first tentative search for a new planet should take place toward the far edge of the neutral zone. The possibility of finding a Class M planet seemed more promising in that area, based on the quantities of things like asteroids and other stellar bodies. They checked in with the most remote of the Federation outposts, and then they began searching in earnest. Spock had ordered round the clock sensor sweeps. He took one shift, Chekhov took another, and someone from the astrophysics department usually took the third.

The Enterprise crew had realized that they had limited time to find a new home for the group they had begun calling "the Innocents", for lack of a better term. Although they had 18 months until the system's star went supernova, the botanists report indicated that the temperatures had risen so high, that it was unlikely that the Innocents could produce a crop large enough to get them through the next year. The Enterprise didn't have food stores enough for 10000 people for any length of time, so getting them to a new home was critical.

Two weeks into their sensor sweeps a promising planet was encountered. There seemed to be no advanced life forms. Spock and the planetary survey team went down to a temperate region of one of the larger continents.

Spock ran his tricorder over the soil. The composition seemed rich enough for growing food staples. They might have to supply the Innocents with seed grains local to this planet, rather than hoping that the grains from their previous planet would be able to grow here, but this was a small matter.

"Sir?" It was a member of the security team.

"Chief?"

"We – we think we've spotted a door, Sir."

"A door?"

"Yes, Sir. It looks manmade. It's in those rocks over there, at the base of that hill."

Spock went over with the two members of the security team to investigate. It was indeed, some kind of mechanical door. He was standing about 10 feet from it, taking tricorder readings, when it opened and people came pouring out of it. Later, Spock would reflect that these particular people were Romulans, and they had an uncanny ability to appear to be greater in number than they actually were, perhaps because they moved so rapidly. He vaguely remembered calling for an emergency beamout. Emergency beamouts, however, never seemed to come quite as quickly as one wanted, although this one managed to retrieve him and the landing party just after the disruptor beam hit him.

Kirk shut his intercom against the ranting of his chief medical officer, who was expressing his displeasure about the large quantity of burned and injured crewmen who had materialized in Sickbay "with no warning and while I was still eating my oatmeal!" He then listened to a breathless report from his security chief. He pounded the arm of his chair.

"Mr. Chekhov, I don't recall authorizing you to move into the Neutral Zone."

"And I did not, Captain."

"So the Romulans are getting a little grabby? Dammit, this was just the kind of thing I was hoping to avoid. Lieutenant, can you establish communications with the planet?"

"Negative, Captain. Just after the landing party came back, there was a communication from the surface, but I can't find any trace of it now. In fact, I'm not receiving the usual static that would be emitted if there were any communications equipment at all." Kirk looked at Uhura. She seemed to be all business, but he knew that she must be panicked.

"How is that possible?"

"Captain, if the Romulans were underground or living in the side of the mountain, as the chief suggested, their transmissions might be blocked. That might also be why our sensors didn't detect them," Chekhov said.

"Why would they be underground?"

"Spock mentioned that the planet was mineral rich. He thought this might be good for the Innocents, enable them to progress with their development of metalworking," UHura said, her voice tight.

"So the Romulans want this planet for its resources. That might explain why they are on our side of the Neutral Zone. It's just so…obvious." Kirk seemed almost disappointed by the venal motives.

"Sir," shouted Chekhov, "Romulan ship decloaking now!"

"They're hailing us, Captain."

"Onscreen."

A Romulan centurion appeared on the viewscreen.

"Why have you breached the Neutral Zone, Earth vessel?"

"Why have we?" shouted Kirk, "Why have you?"

"We are well within our side of the Neutral Zone. This will mean war!"

"Lieutenant, close channel! Chekhov, how well are they armed?"

"It is a small ship, Sir. We would outgun them." Apparently, the Romulans had made the same discovery. They cloaked again and disappeared.

Kirk held his breath. Five minutes passed. It was safe to say that the Romulan ship might want war, but not just now, with these odds. Kirk turned to Uhura.

"Lieutenant, get me Starfleet Command." Kirk spent a very painful ten minutes talking to two sighing admirals, who said that they might be able to send the Intrepid, in a week or so, as their lone reinforcement.

"Just in time to send our remains to our next of kin," muttered Kirk. He looked at Uhura.

"Lieutenant, if you have somewhere else you need to be…" She was in the turbolift before he had finished his sentence.

Entering Sickbay, she noted that the initial chaos they had heard an hour ago seemed to have died down. All the biobeds were filled, but everyone seemed to have been banadaged or sedated, which was how McCoy generally liked his patients. She saw Spock in the bed on the far left. They had apparently had to cut off his shirt, and a large bandage covered the upper part of his chest. His eyes were closed, and he was very still. She slowly went up to him and took his hand. McCoy came over.

"He took a hit to the chest. I think we've repaired the damage. Fortunately, he was hit by a ricochet. He hasn't regained consciousness, though, although his brain scans are normal. Try talking to him." McCoy turned to dump his oatmeal in the garbage. "Nurse, if any more wounded people materialize, they're going to have to wait until I have finished my BLT." He swept out of Sickbay.

Uhura began speaking to Spock in Vulcan, mostly so she could say what she wanted without anyone overhearing, but also because she though he might find it comforting. "Spock, please open your eyes. Please, wake up." She stroked his hair. When there was no response, she pulled a chair up to the side of his bed, and sat, holding his hand, and telling him random details of their encounter with the Romulans. If begging didn't convince him to wake up, maybe offering him an intellectual puzzle would.


	11. Chapter 11

Spock came out of his healing trance to find Uhura asleep on a chair next to his bed. She was still holding his hand. He had been able to hear her speaking to him earlier, but it had seemed like a dream. Most of his focus had been on healing his wound. He lifted his free hand to touch her hair, and found that it took more effort than he would have anticipated. She awoke when she felt his touch.

"You're awake," she said, quietly, perhaps not wishing to wake the other convalescents. It was 5:00 a.m. She moved from her chair to sit on his bed and then leaned over and kissed him, resting her head on his uninjured shoulder. "We – Dr. McCoy couldn't tell me why you weren't awake."

"I am sorry to have caused you worry. Vulcans often enter a meditative state to heal. It is quite deep, and sometimes resembles a coma." He paused. "I could hear you talking to me, but I wasn't able to focus as I usually do."

"Never mind," she said, stroking his cheek. McCoy wandered in, bleary-eyed.

"I see you decided to join the land of the living," he growled, as he inspected the readings over Spock's biobed. "All this looks normal, or as normal as you get. I'll need you here another day to make sure that skin graft is holding." Another member of the landing party moaned two biobeds away. "I'll be right there." He walked away muttering "of course, because that's the Starfleet oath I swore: 'to protect, defend, and never eat breakfast ever again'"

Spock turned to Uhura.

"Nyota, did you tell me that the Romulans claim that we are on the wrong side of the Neutral Zone?"

"I did. Chekhov is beside himself."

"We went over the coordinates of our search grids most carefully. I do not think the error was ours."

"Well, yes, if I had to choose between you and Chekhov and some random Romulan navigator, I'd certainly pick you and Chekhov."

"Who else was injured besides myself?"

"Both members of the security team, and the chief botanist. Only you and the security crewman were injured badly." Spock nodded.

"I must return to the bridge as soon as possible to go over our course headings."

"You'll be staying here for another day, as the doctor advised." Spock noted that she was using the same tone that she used when she had informed him that he was assigning her to the Enterprise.

"Yes, I believe I will be staying here."

Uhura was exhausted, but quite happy to be heading back to the bridge for her shift. Spock was settled into Sickbay with a pair of fresh pajamas and a PADD with his star charts, because good relationships rely on compromise.

She entered the bridge. Kirk was drumming his fingers on his armrest. They were awaiting orders from Starfleet, which she knew to be his least favorite position. Chekhov was moving back and forth between Spock's station, where he pored over some long text document, and his station, where he was poring over star charts. He was mumbling to himself in Russian.

"He's been like this all day," whispered Kirk to Uhura.

"Spock really doesn't think the error was on our part."

"Chekhov's seventeen. He doesn't really have the self confidence to say stuff like that."

Suddenly, Chekhov rose and shouted something in Russian. Whether it was a victory cry or a gasp of pain, Uhura wasn't sure.

"Captain, I am not quite myself,"

"Then who are you, Mr. Chekhov?," said Kirk, startled.

"I believe I need to see Dr. McCoy, Sir."

"By all means," said Kirk, gesturing toward the turbolift.

Uhura's board was quiet. Kirk's drumming grew more incessant. When her board lit up an hour later, she jumped, and then noted with surprise that the incoming transmission was from Sickbay.

"Spock here, Captain."

"Spock?"

"Yes, Captain. I believe Mr. Chekhov has discovered the source of the conflict with the Romulans. When the original boundaries of the Neutral Zone were delineated 100 years ago, apparently they did not exclusively use star positions as reference points. They also used astral bodies, including two asteroid belts and at least one planet, as reference points in the official language of the treaty."

"But planets and asteroid belts move, Mr. Spock,"

"Indeed, Captain. We have been using the actual positions of the asteroid belts from 100 years ago, which we translated using their relationships to stars at that time, while the Romulans have been referencing the asteroid belts where they are today."

"Let me guess, with each side selecting the interpretation that gave it more space."

"Affirmative, Captain. This issue should be communicated to Starfleet."

"If you will send both referenced boundaries to Lieutenant Uhura, I am sure she will compose such a message, and Spock?"

"Captain?"

"She doesn't look very happy to be hearing from you right now."

"Noted, Captain."

"Get some rest, Spock, and I trust Mr Chekhov is feeling better?"

"He has appeared in perfect health this entire time, Captain,"

When Spock had signed off, Kirk sighed.

"Do you know that Chekhov is so young that for legal reasons, his mother had to sign a form giving me permission to seek medical treatment on his behalf, if necessary?" said Kirk to Uhura. "Now he finds a mistake in one of the Federation's most important treaties, that all of the other legal minds have missed for a hundred years."

Uhura sent a message to Starfleet. She received no reply during the rest of her shift. Kirk sighed, but indicated it was no surprise. What Chekhov had discovered was a big deal, and the Council would probably have to rule on this.

Uhura stopped by Sickbay to see if Spock needed anything. Thankfully, he was asleep, although that fact made Uhura wonder how severe his injuries had been. He often went days without sleeping.

The next morning, she accompanied him back to his quarters. A lengthy negotiation between them had resulted in the compromise that he would work from the computer there today.

No sooner had she arrived on the bridge, than they received the long-awaited message from Starfleet. The Federation would attempt to make contact with the Romulan Senate, to discuss this matter. Until that time, they were to plot both boundaries of the Neutral Zone, and steer clear of all of them. The message indicated that this was a fleetwide order. Not that they were sending any other ship in this direction anytime soon, thought Uhura, grudgingly.

"Have we seen any sign of our Romulan shadow, Mr Chekhov?"

"No, Sir, but they do have the cloaking device."

"At any rate they aren't engaging us. Get me Mr. Spock, Lieutenant,"

"Spock here, Captain."

"Mr. Spock, Lieutenant Uhura indicated to me that you think that this planet is mineral rich, or so you indicated to her at some point when I wasn't in the room."

"Affirmative, Captain." Uhura was relieved to hear Spock ignoring the bait.

"And Mr Chekhov suggested that we missed the Romulans on that planet because they were underground, perhaps mining,"

"A hypothesis that fits the data, Captain."

"I don't think we've heard the last of the Romulans if they are mining in this area."


	12. Chapter 12

Uhura could tell that Kirk was actually rather excited about their current mission. They were looking for a new home world, under time pressure, for a threatened people, without telling Starfleet exactly what that would require, while patrolling the Neutral Zone, while trying to avoid the Romulans, with whom they had a border dispute. Kirk might grumble, but Uhura knew that this was exactly the kind of situation he loved. It was complicated, dangerous, worthy, and involved breaking rules.

She had been kept rather busy. Starfleet had been using the Enterprise to communicate their treaty concerns to the Romulans. Since communication with the Romulan Senate was restricted, she had to communicate with Starfleet Command to get new randomly generated security codes that changed with each communication on almost a daily basis. Starfleet had proposed a broadening of the Neutral Zone to the widest possible space defined by either interpretation of the treaty. The Romulans refused, sticking to the interpretation of the treaty that allowed them to encroach on Federation Space the most.

Spock and Chekhov had thrown out their old search grids and started over. Finding the new planet for the Innocents had become almost an obsession for Spock. He was only sleeping every two or three days. Uhura had had to remind him that Chekhov couldn't go more than 18 hours or so without sleep. She had seen little of him in the week after he was discharged from the hospital , but she had insisted that he see McCoy for follow up visits to make sure his burns were healing. A couple of times, she had brought some pad thai to him in the Astrophysics Lab, which he accepted with a grateful kiss. He always looked chagrined when she left, as if he knew that he was neglecting her. She knew, though, how important this was to him, how he needed to save these people in a way that he hadn't been able to save his own.

Spock left the mess hall carrying a tray piled with covered dishes. If anyone had seen him, they might have guessed where he was going. Spock was grateful that in fact he didn't run into anyone. He didn't really have the stamina for lame attempts at humor right now. Outside Uhura's door, he hesitated. Taking a deep breath to quell inappropriate emotions of fear, he punched the door chime. He heard her beckon him to enter. There was surprise in her eyes when she saw him.

"I thought we might dine together this evening," he said, quietly.

"That would be very welcome," she replied, almost shyly.

Wordlessly, he set down the dishes on her small table and began uncovering them. He felt her arms around him from behind.

"This is a nice surprise. I've missed you." He straightened up, and turned to embrace her. He felt a kind of pang, the pang he had felt when he asked his mother how she felt about his pursuit of the path of total logic. He also knew how he might have interpreted things had she been as inattentive to him as he had been to her lately.

"I am sorry to have been absent so often. You did not think – you did not think my feelings for you had changed?"

"No, I didn't. You didn't give me any indication…they haven't, have they?"

"If anything, they are stronger, for I must acknowledge that my absence from you has negatively affected my functioning." She laughed

"Spock, that may be the most romantic thing you've ever said to me. Let's eat"

Spock realized that once again, human humor had eluded him. He resolved upon further study.

After the meal, they moved to the sofa. Spock had planned a romantic evening, he really had, but he found himself fading, as she sat on his lap and stroked his ears and the back of his neck.

"Poor baby. Are you and Chekhov any further along in finding a planet?"

"Only in that we have eliminated a great many systems."

"I'm sorry. I have faith in you two though. There must be someplace out there that will work for them. I think you will find it."

He was not sure there was a logical reason for her confidence, but he was grateful for it, nonetheless. She rose and led him by the hand to the bed. He was barely able to undress and climb under the covers before sleep overtook him.

Uhura undressed and climbed in beside Spock. She had missed his presence, not just in her bed, but the ability to talk to him, to share his burdens, and to have him share hers. That had always been the cornerstone of their relationship. As she watched him sleep, she was grateful to have him back, but knew that it was just for a short while, and he and Chekhov would go back to their crushing pace of labor soon enough.

This was to be their life, though. They were officers in Starfleet, and they couldn't escape the press of duties. They had always managed before to make time for each other. Maybe now, they could as well. She would talk to him about it. She wasn't sure what approach to take. Spock preferred the direct approach when it came to things like science, but he was still growing used to having a private life. Anything having to do with emotion, he preferred to discuss alone with her, and only in an oblique and vague fashion around others.

The next morning, when he awoke, he looked much better. His eyes didn't have the dull look of the evening before, and he seemed anxious to get back to work, not because he wanted to leave her, but because he seemed renewed.

She decided to seize her moment.

"Spock, I have missed you this last week."

"And I you," he said embracing her.

"I was wondering if we might do something about that."

"I take it you had a more exact 'something' in mind?"

Uhura took a deep breath.

"I thought we might move in together. It would be easier to spend time together. We would be each other's default options…no, that's not how I want to put it. We would automatically be there, each of us, when the other came off shift. I mean, I know you are there for me, supporting me, but now we would be there physically."

Spock pondered for a moment. He had thought of such a plan himself, but had wondered whether he was being precipitous. Moving in together would certainly be to his taste. He finished putting on his boot and rose from the bed.

"That would be a logical plan, and would certainly be efficient." He stopped, and started again, hesitantly. "It would also be what I desire. I know it would be most beneficial to me, and I can only hope it would be equally so to you."

Uhura threw her arms around his neck and kissed him.

"I don't see how it could be anything but beneficial to me."


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter 13

Spock felt a renewed vigor as he returned to the Astrophysics Lab. He picked up his star charts with a speed and enthusiasm that shocked poor Chekhov. He'd also had what Admiral Pike would have called a "brain wave".

"I believe, Mr. Chekhov that we can improve our efficiency by over a third if we streamline our search algorithm."

"How, Sir?"

"We need to avoid spending time on systems that orbit dwarf stars or neutron stars. We also need to concentrate on systems that have a wide spread of orbits, and we need to skip the moons of gas giants. I know that this way we will fail to map some systems that the Federation might find of importance, but we will be patrolling this area for some time, and we can map these systems when time is of less of an essence, and when we have a better idea of where the new Neutral Zone might be. This way, we will maximize our chances of finding a suitable planet, by concentrating on systems that have an abundance of them, instead of covering every system where there might be one or two planets of any kind."

"Yessir. But, Mr. Spock, by looking in the most likely places, won't we be likely to find planets that have already been colonized?"

"A very logical objection, Mr. Chekhov. Command decisions usually require a balancing of costs and benefits, of probability and risks. In this case, I believe that the benefits of finding a planet sooner outweigh the costs of having to eliminate some because they are inhabited." Chekhov nodded as knowingly as his extreme youth would allow.

They pored over the star charts with extreme speed, sending new courses up to Sulu. They received a not unexpected communication.

"Whoa, Nelly, Boys. You've got us covering a lot of space in the next few days."

"Agreed, Captain, but I believe that this new search pattern will have a greater chance of success than out previous one."

"Are you saying that our previous plan, charted by the two of you, lacked efficiency, and, dare I say, optimum logic, Mr. Spock?" Spock could hear the laughter in the Captain's voice.

"Our previous course was very logical, Captain. This one is merely more logical." Even over the commlink, he could hear Kirk's laughter echoing across the bridge.

"Whatever you say, Cowboy. Kirk out." Spock sighed.

They only worked a shift and a half, much to Chekhov's relief. Spock felt sufficiently optimistic about this new course that he felt that he could take the time to go to his quarters and begin packing. He packed a duffle bag of uniforms and the PADDs he consulted most frequently, and picked up his harp. When he arrived at Nyota's door, she seemed surprised to see him, and then she laughed.

"You don't waste much time do you, Mister?" Spock was puzzled for a moment. Had he misunderstood her intentions this morning? Or perhaps he had been too anticipatory. Humans often promised to interact with each other, and then refrained from doing so. He had inadvertently goaded at least 5 colleagues into lunching with him his first year as an instructor at the Academy, until Pike had explained to him that the phrase "let's have lunch, sometime" could often mean many things other than a desire to have a sandwich together.

"If it is not convenient…" Uhura seized his wrist and pulled him inside.

"No, it's fine. I had forgotten how literal you can be, but I'm grateful for your enthusiasm." Spock was rarely accused of being enthusiastic, but he knew better than to contradict. "I just haven't thought about where we might put your things."

Spock realized that his assumption that they would live in her quarters had also been precipitous. It had just seemed obvious to him. Her quarters were well ordered for living, while he had barely unpacked since his hasty decision to reenlist. More than that, her quarters felt like a haven for him. Perhaps, she didn't feel the same way, and his quarters, located closer to the bridge, with more space, would have been better. She seemed not to question his assumption, though. She was in the bedroom, moving things around in her closet.

"Spock, I think we should just hang the uniforms in the closet, with one or two casual outfits. Our warm and cold weather clothes can be packed away, maybe even in our storage lockers on B deck. When we go planetside in extreme weather, we'll be wearing Starfleet-issue gear, unless we're on shore leave."

Spock was startled out of his reverie. This was one of the things he loved most about her: the way they worked together to make their plans a reality. He paused for a moment to consider his future with such a woman. He had found that planning his career more than five years in advance was fruitless. Inevitably, opportunities had presented themselves that were better than anything he could have planned. He had assumed that this was because he had a poor imagination, particularly compared to the humans with whom he worked in Starfleet. Contemplating the future of his personal life, however, might be different. Nyota seemed more solid than any of his other life options had ever been. He walked into the bedroom.

"Flawlessly logical, Nyota," he said, embracing and kissing her.

Uhura was so glad that she and Spock had moved in together. Both of them had found their time very occupied. The Romulan Senate kept contacting them directly. Kirk didn't feel comfortable having anyone other than Uhura translating, given the importance of nuance, and his utter lack of command of it. Spock and Chekhov's new search algorithm had yielded a slew of new planets to survey, at least a third of which were already inhabited. Uhura had had to do at least a cursory cataloguing of the communications systems of those planets. She foresaw a lot of first contact activity in their future when they had time to come back.

Finally, Chekhov and Spock found a suitable planet. Kirk made Uhura contact the Romulans to subtly make sure they had never visited this planet and never intended to. A survey team was assembled, and Kirk made sure that security personnel outnumbered the scientists.

The planet wasn't perfect for the Innocents, Uhura noted as they beamed down. It was subtropical, and she wasn't sure all of their traditional crops would survive here. Spock assured her that the Enterprise wouldn't settle the Innocents here unless they could be sure of an adequate food supply, possibly by combining foraging with their traditional seasonal agriculture.

The beamdown point was a small clearing next to a small river. Lush greenery abounded, and Uhura spotted at least three different kinds of trees that bore some kind of fruit. Two botanists, accompanied by two security guard immediately began collecting samples. The sound of more people beaming down ensued, and Uhura turned around.

"Tropical paradise, my Aunt Fanny. Everyone has forgotten what Earth's tropical areas were like before we developed modern medicine. Malaria, yellow fever, and cholera, and that's even before we start talking about the parasites."

"Surely, Doctor, we can surreptitiously inoculate the Innocents against the worst of what they might find on this planet."

Uhura resisted the temptation to laugh. Bones' grumbling was the same whatever they encountered; only the specifics were different. Yet, every time, Spock spoke as though he needed to resolve Bones' concerns. The two would have made a perfect situation comedy.

Spock, Uhura, and Bones walked on. All three were taking copious tricorder readings. Uhura, who had talked herself onto the mission with the idea of getting some fresh air and being another pair of eyes and hands, tried to get as many soil readings as possible. Spock was cataloging plants. Bones was collecting potential disease carrying insects, much to Spock's relief, Uhura was sure. All three were so intent on their work, that they didn't see the three foot lizard that came crashing out of the undergrowth. It was headed for Spock. Uhura had just begun to call his name, and he had just turned in the direction of the noise, when it barreled into him. He reached out his hands to push it away, and Uhura grabbed his hand and arm to steady him. The lizard gave what sounded like a scream, and fled.

Spock turned quickly to Uhura.

"There is no need to be afraid, Nyota. I am unharmed." Uhura was puzzled.

"I see, Spock. I'm glad you're alright." She wasn't sure why he had thought she was so afraid.

"What in blazes was that?"

"One of the indigenous fauna, Doctor. I think the Innocents will be able to cope."

They collected readings for a few more hours. Uhura had this odd sensation that they were being watched, but they hadn't detected any large or humanoid life forms in their initial sensor sweeps, so she decided that she was imagining things.

Back on the ship, Spock and his staff spent a day analyzing the data, and then went back down. Uhura was stuck on board, helping Jim hem and haw for Starfleet about why they were spending so long in one place. She didn't mind. She had gotten a breath of fresh air, and she wanted to leave Spock alone to do his work. For the next week, she saw him only in the evenings, when he returned to the ship, tired, but satisfied with their progress.

Down on the planet, Spock would have felt almost optimistic, if he had been willing to admit that he possessed such feelings. The Innocents might have to convert to a rice based diet, but he felt that wouldn't be a huge problem. There were many edible fruits. Dr. McCoy, despite his prognostications, hadn't found that many diseases in either the insects or the soil. There were a large number of these three foot reptiles. Many of the teams had reported seeing them, but there had been no indication that they were dangerous. He felt that another day of surveying would be sufficient.

Spock had wandered about a mile from the beamdown point into the undergrowth. He had taken a security guard with him, just to set a good example for the others, rather than out of fear for his own safety. He wanted more plant and water samples. He then saw another of the three foot reptiles. It almost appeared to be watching him. He then saw another, and another.

"Lt. McRae," he asked the security officer, "have you seen any of these reptiles? There appear to be a large number in this vicinity." McRae came over, phaser drawn. Just then, from within the underbrush, fifty of them appeared, in a circular formation around Spock and McRae. Spock had not expected this.


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter 14

"Should I begin firing, Sir?" McRae asked. Spock was impressed by her calm, but bemoaned the usual security mindset of shooting first and asking questions later.

"They have thus far shown no signs of hostility. Indeed, a formation of this sort suggests high intelligence."

"Intelligence and friendliness are not correlated, Sir," said McRae. One of the reptiles walked up to Spock. McRae pointed her weapon. It hesitated.

"Do not fire, Lieutenant, unless I order you to do so." Spock was intrigued now. The reptile walked up to him on its hind legs and placed a claw on his hand. Spock could feel the creatures move into his mind. . Indeed, he could feel a multitude of them. Some were curious, and some were angry.

"We do not intend to harm you," Spock thought.

"What do you intend?" shouted several of the minds he could hear. The loudest mind told the others to be quiet.

"You are telepaths," Spock thought.

"Yes, we can communicate with each other, but apparently not with your people. Except you, and you we have to touch."

"I am different from the others. My people are touch telepaths."

"Very well. The matter at hand is what you are doing here."

"We had thought to settle a small group of our people here."

"So you come to take our territory."

"We did not know this place was inhabited."

"Now you know."

"It is possible the two groups could live symbiotically. You may learn from each other."

"We could not communicate with them, unless they are like you . Your minds are too confined, trapped in your bodies. Go, back to wherever you came from, whether it's the north or south, and do not bring others back. We will make their lives hard if you do." Spock received images of the reptiles hunting as a pack, bringing down animals larger than themselves.

"We will go now," he thought. This must be what disappointment felt like.

Kirk was actually stunned into silence. He did not sit, or pace, or even speak for a full minute after Spock had made his report.

"So, the Innocents can't settle the only suitable planet we have found, because it's taken by a group of surly, xenophobic, telepathic lizards?"

"Xenophobic is a matter of interpretation, Captain – "

"Why did we not detect this species on the sensor sweeps?"

"Our sensors do not detect intelligence, Captain. We found no humanoid or large mammalian life. These reptiles, while intelligent, do not appear to have begun to smelt metal or do the other things that civilizations often do, things that we could have detected. They have probably not bothered to develop writing, since their telepathy makes it unnecessary. It was not even clear to me that they understood I was from another world; rather, they simply knew I was not from someplace nearby since they had never encountered my species before."

"There's no chance we could settle the Innocents there anyway?"

"Not possible, Captain. The reptiles are hostile and intelligent. I noted in my report that they are fully capable of hunting and attacking as a group in a way that would make them a formidable enemy. Their hostility makes it almost a certainty that they would attack the Innocents at will, and do so effectively."

"But they're lizards, and they're pretty small."

"The Innocents could probably eventually defeat them, Captain, given their size and the fact that the Innocents have metal weapons. However, the conflict would surely end in one group's genocide of the other. To create such a situation would be unconscionable, Captain. Indeed, as an intelligent species, the reptiles have certain property rights over this planet. In fact, as they are a pre-warp society, I have already breached several first contact protocols in communicating with them."

"We'll skip your court-martial for the time being, Mr. Spock. I don't want to depress you more than you already are."

"Captain?"

"Back to the drawing board."

Chekhov, who had been sitting silently in the corner, covered his face with his hands, as the Captain left the conference room.

"Bemoaning our fate will not improve it, Mr. Chekhov. We will need a new search grid."

"Aye, Sir."

Vulcans did not acknowledge despair as such. They had algorithms for determining the probability of success of an endeavor, and combining that with the necessity of the endeavor usually told them when an effort was futile or illogical to undertake. When data was insufficient to determine probability, however, even the most high-minded Vulcans might disagree on whether to proceed or "cut their losses," as Kirk would say. Spock didn't think they were near that point, but Federation space, especially that small segment that they were patrolling, was not infinite, and he began to wonder whether it would be necessary to call in the resources of the Federation.

Once again, Uhura found herself grateful that she and Spock had moved in together, and she got used to seeing him only every couple of days, when Spock would indulge in a few hours of much needed sleep. He and Chekhov were growing increasingly worried that they would run out of time to find a planet for the Innocents. She supposed that Spock would have said "concerned" or "possessing a greater sense of urgency", but Uhura thought he seemed worried. It was taking him longer to come to bed after meditating.

"Do you need to talk?" she asked, one evening.

"I am not aware of any topics we must discuss immediately. Your communications with Starfleet seem sufficient for the Captain's needs, and Mr. Chekhov and I do not anticipate needing your services immediately." Uhura sighed.

"What I meant to ask, Spock, was whether it would help you to discuss your – " she searched for a word that wouldn't take him aback, " your reactions to your search?"

"Perhaps. I had a professor at the Academy, a Professor Rongpe, who said that the best way to reason something out was to do it aloud to another person. Of course, I was never certain that this hypothesis was universal, as beings with gestural languages –"

"Spock."

"But perhaps it applies to humanoids such as myself. At any rate, Mr. Chekhov and I have scanned, using long range sensors, approximately half of the space that we are assigned to patrol. We have found two planets that were suitable with respect to climate and lack of built environment, but each of which had been claimed by another civilization that eluded our initial surveys. We plan on continuing our search grid, concentrating only on stars and planets most likely to be able to support life. It is probable that we will find at least another two suitable planets – "

"Spock, I was wondering less about your strategy, and more about how you were feeling."

"Nyota, I think that excessive emotionalism would be counterproductive to our endeavor."

"Is that why you are meditating longer every evening?" She saw him hesitate.

"I admit that more meditation seems to be necessary recently." She knew he didn't want to discuss it further, and she wasn't sure how hard to push.

"I have a friend from secondary school. Her name was Tanya, and her parents divorced when we were fifteen. Whenever she enters a relationship with someone, she throws herself into it, and she was devastated whenever her college romances ended. Her counselor told her that she was trying to save her parents' marriage with every relationship she entered." Spock hesitated.

"And you believe that I am trying to save my people by saving the Innocents." Sometimes, she forgot how quick he was. "I would prefer to think that I would be as diligent on behalf of the Innocents, even if Vulcan had not been destroyed."

"I'm sure you would be, but I think you might be more detached," she said, sympathetically.

"I do not know that I agree with your hypothesis, Nyota. The fact remain, however, that unless Mr Chekhov and I can find a suitable planet, the Innocents will suffer s difficult fate."

"Spock, you know that if worse comes to worst, Starfleet won't abandon these people to their fate."

"This is true, but a standard Starfleet evacuation would not be a resettlement. They would be refugees on whatever world would accept them. Their culture would be destroyed, and they would be thrust into a modern world for which they are ill-prepared."

"True, but even our proposed plan is going to wreak some degree of havoc on their culture. They'll have to adapt to new flora, fauna, climate. We can't give them their home back." Spock nodded.

"We must seek to do as little damage as possible."

"And you are, but if, in the end, you and Chekhov do your best, and there is still no solution…"

"Then I will accept that outcome."

"Good," she said, hugging him.

"I cannot forecast the same reaction on the part of the Captain. He does not like an unaccomplished mission."

"True," said Uhura, "but he's easily distracted."


End file.
